Tracing Origins
by Artemicion
Summary: During a hiatus from his Champion duties,Wallace receives a disturbing phone call from a worried Mr. Stone. Steven has vanished. Worried, Wallace sets out to find some answers and—more importantly—his missing partner. Originshipping. Yaoi.
1. Prologue

_**Tracing Origins**_

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. No profit is being made from this story, and it is purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: A special thanks to my good friend Minyasta for her support and lovely editing skills. This is dedicated to another of my accomplices (you know who you are) who has adored this pairing since the beginning. I hope I've done it justice and to shut up that naysayer that bothered you claiming that fics involving plot and this couple do not exist.

This fic contains yaoi/shounen ai, meaning a man with another man and some very unplutonic thoughts. So if you're not into that sort of thing, kindly back out of this page and save the rest of us the pain of your stupidity when you flame me. The pairing is the unfortunately rare Originshipping (Wallace/Steven) so for those of you still brave enough to venture forward, enjoy!

**Prologue**

He let out a sharp hiss of pain as he gingerly touched the gash running down his side. Blood, warm and wet, trickled from the downward slanting wound and soaked the tattered remains of his shirt and suit jacket His breaths came in harsh gasps, each draw of air burning his chest and becoming more labored as the beginnings of shock set in.

_No. You have to get out of here._ He told himself firmly with a few hard blinks in an attempt to clear away the spots starting to plague his vision. He clung to the wall to stay upright. His legs felt like jelly and threatened to give out on him soon if he did not rest. Too bad that was not an option available to him at the moment.

"He went this way!"

"Damnit."

Gasping softly, he began the slow, painful lurch forward. The ominous echo of thudding, booted feet was uncomfortably close behind. The darkness of the tunnel shielded him but only for the moment. They were coming closer and it wouldn't be long before he was discovered.

A gray haze was beginning to seep into the edge of his vision. Not good.

He pushed on, grunting softly in the effort, towards the end of the darkened tunnel that supposedly led to his escape. Why couldn't evil madmen ever build their laboratories in more access-friendly places?

_Of course. Because it would be __**too easy**_ He made it to the end and nearly groaned out loud when he saw the treacherous crashing waves several meters below. A fall from his position would promise almost instant death, if not by the unpredictable thrashing of the tumultuous waves then by being slammed into the jagged rocks jutting out dangerously from the dark waters.

"There he is! This way!"

He spared a quick glance over his shoulder. The footsteps were growing louder, barely audible over the thunderous crash of waves outside. Terrific, his choices were now instant death by the waves or death by torture if he was captured. And option three?

Shakily, he fingered one of the Poke Balls hanging on his belt, nearly losing his grip on it from the blood on his fingers. "Aron, I choose you!"

There was a flash and then appeared a small creature with a large ovular head and steal-plated body. It growled fiercely, sensing the approaching danger and its master's distress, its light blue eyes glowing dangerously even in the dark. It looked at him once, concerned, but was already tensed and ready for combat as the first grunt appeared before them.

"Heh," sneered the grunt, "end of the line."

Even injured, blood spilling out of his wound, and vision now wavering, he refused to allow himself to be captured, especially not after what he'd seen in there. With great effort he shoved himself away from the wall and held himself as tall as possible, facing down the now growing number of grunts. Aron growled again as it stood in front of him protectively.

"You might as well give it up. You can't take all of us."

He edged backwards a step, looking over his shoulder one more time for any hope of escape, a stray ledge, _anything_. His voice was, thankfully, devoid of the weakness he felt at the moment, "Is that so?"

"Make it easy on yourself and just give up."

"Forget it, man. He wants to do this the hard way. Let's just clobber him and drag him back to the boss. He doesn't seem so tough now," came the cocky voice of another grunt.

"Or better yet, let's—"

Then something happened that neither the grunts nor he expected. A black shape hurled itself past his shoulder and slammed into the crowd of grunts. The first one who'd confronted him was thrown back violently, crying out as he was slammed into the other grunts, causing a roar of panic and confusion, legs and arms flailing out wildly. The ball, a swirling vortex of black shadow, seemed to--if it was possible--make the dark tunnel even darker, as if it sucked all the meager light into itself.

His eyes widened when he recognized the move. Shadow Ball. But who…?

"_Gengar_…" came a raspy voice at his shoulder, causing him to whirl in time to come face to face with a purple apparition of a Pokemon with glowing red eyes. It was floating just outside the tunnel leering at the grunts mischievously, enjoying the chaos it had caused.

The darkness was closing in on his vision, though. He swayed unsteadily. His eyes began to roll up into his head, knees buckling. Strong, gentle hands caught him but he barely felt it as he was already slipping into unconsciousness. The sound of Aron's ferocious cry and a hissed command of "_Night Shade!_" followed him into the welcome arms of oblivion.

_Wallace…_Steven Stone thought longingly as his eyelids slid shut. _I'm sorry…_


	2. Another Day in Ever Grande City

_**Tracing Origins**_

A/N: First off, thank you for the kind words of encouragement! Also, the 'universe' that this story takes place in is a mix of what little of the manga I've read, the game, my interpretation, and—predominantly—the anime.

**Chapter One: Another Day in Ever Grande City **

Wallace thrummed his fingers against the railing impatiently as the battle between the challenger and Glacia raged. From his position in the booth high above Glacia's frigid battle field, he waited to see if this challenger had what it took to prove himself worthy of the title of Hoenn Champion. However, as things were progressing the way they were, it looked as though that would not be happening today.

Panic flashed across the challenger's face as Glacia's Glalie effortlessly brushed off the fire spin that his Ninetales had executed. The magnificent white creature had fought hard, managing to defeat two of Glacia's Pokemon in a row. But it seemed that in Glalie, it had met its match.

Glacia stood tall as she commanded, "Finish this, Glalie! Crunch!"

"Don't let it near you!" hollered the challenger to his Ninetales. "Keep it at bay with your flamethrower!"

Ninetales and Glalie were locked in a deadly battle of not only physical skills but also of wills. Despite the type advantage that Ninetales held over the ice-type, not much could make up for the simple fact that Glalie was more experienced, a result of years of training and battle after battle of hopeful challengers. Then there was the fact that after two consecutive, brutal battles, Ninetales was tiring.

Glalie charged, dark energy radiating from its body. The energy swirled around the ice-type Pokemon, and suddenly an illusion of a large set of jagged-toothed jaws appeared before its face, open and eagerly awaiting a victim.

Ninetales took a few hops back and dug its heels into the ground, lowering its head a fraction. Its luminescent yellow eyes began to glow as it gathered strength. The elegant fan of tails stood up on end, high and proud even though some scuff marks stained the creamy coat.

As Glalie jerked forward and unleashed the crunch attack, Ninetales' jaw snapped open and out exploded a stream of flames. The two attacks collided and for a moment, the showdown became a swirling mess between an inky mass of shadows and a bright, scorching burst of flames. Despite his reservations about the young trainer, Wallace watched with some anticipation.

"You can do it, Ninetales!" came the challenger's encouragement.

Ninetales, though obviously exhausted and already approaching its limit, seemed heartened by its trainer's words. The room began to glow brighter. The temperature suddenly soared and even made some of the ice of Glacia's battle field partially melt. The flames increased in intensity and ripped through the crunch attack. Glalie threw itself aside to avoid the onslaught of flames, which missed it by centimeters.

Glacia seemed unperturbed by the Ninetales' renewed determination, shouting, "Ice Beam!"

Glalie twirled and danced like a graceful figure skater across the ice as Ninetales' flamethrower pursued it. For such a bulky and odd-looking Pokemon, it was beautiful to watch in battle, especially when it was in its element--ice.

The challenger crooned at his Pokemon to keep it up, to keep Glalie from ever getting the chance to use its attack. Wallace watched with interest as Ninetales padded across the ice with its own innate grace, managing to somehow to stay afloat in an environment that couldn't have been more different from the rocky, fiery landscape that it originated from while also continuing to unleash flamethrower after flamethrower.

Wallace's eyes flickered to Glacia, who calmly watched as her Glalie focused more on evading than attacking. She seemed bored and disinterested. Wallace realized that she was waiting for the Ninetales to tire itself out, something that was happening rapidly before their eyes. It wouldn't be long now. Just one mistake was all it would take.

Ninetales landed hard from a leap after Glalie. One of its paws slid out from under it, and it jerked, frantically righting itself before it completely lost balance. But the damage had already been done; that had been the opening that Glacia had been waiting for.

"Now, Glalie!" Glacia commanded. Glalie was already moving. It shot across the ice, propelled by the slick surface. It became a blur of gray and black and smashed into Ninetales. The fire-type cried out in pain and surprise, tumbling back head over heels.

Glalie smoothly made an arc around the ice so that it was facing its struggling opponent. Pinpricks of bright pale blue light gathered into a glowing ball of ice. After a few seconds, Glalie reared back and let the ice beam loose. It tore across the distance in jagged bolts of ice-blue.

Ninetales barely had time to stagger to its feet before the blast of ice hit it. It let out a high-pitched cry of pain, stumbling backward from the cold beam of ice particles. The blast was so intense that Ninetales' fur became coated with small icicles. It tried valiantly to stand firm against the onslaught of ice, even as its trainer called out in alarm, but it was to no avail.

Glalie pushed its assault. Soon, Ninetales was no longer struggling. Instead, it was literally frozen in place, an elegant Pokemon encased in a large, ragged chunk of ice, unable to battle.

The challenger's jaw was agape. "Ninetales!"

"The challenger is unable to battle. The winner is Lady Glacia!" the official referee of the Hoenn Region Elite Four declared.

Much to the challenger's credit, he seemed more distraught by the sight of his precious Ninetales entrapped in ice rather than by his loss. Wallace was pleased to see this. At least this challenger was showing more concern for his Pokemon than for his failure in attaining the title of Champion.

"Oh, Ninetales!" exclaimed the young man as he slipped and slid his way across the ice. "I'll get you out of there! Return!"

"Tch," scoffed an annoyed Glacia as she regarded the challenger with much contempt. "Your Pokemon put up a good fight, but come back when you've trained a _team_ and not just one powerful Pokemon who dominates the battle after the others have merely worn your opponent down."

Without another word, she pivoted and retreated through the side door that had slid open now that the match had concluded. Wallace looked sympathetically down on the challenger as the referee escorted him out. _Such potential. Nothing a few more years of experience won't fix._

"Aww, it's over already? I was sure by the way he took me and Phoebe down that he'd at least make it to Drake," came Sidney's disappointed remark from behind him.

Wallace turned and gave the other man an amused smile. "You'd better not let Glacia hear you say that."

Sidney, ever the rebel, made a little noise of defiance, but the expression on his face quickly showed his agreement to that bit of wisdom. Glacia had quite a temper. It wasn't pleasant to be on the receiving end of one of her patented glares…glares that could be as cold as the magnificent power of any of her ice-type Pokemon.

"It looks as though that was the last one for today," Wallace remarked when he saw no indication that there were any more trainers vying to take on the Hoenn Elite Four for the day. He was both glad and disappointed. It was a bother that he had to be present for these challenges when usually the time the trainers couldn't even defeat all of the members of the Elite Four and move on to challenge him.

"Thank god! I have been _dying_ to have a drink," Sidney exclaimed with a languid stretch of his arms. He smirked as he added, "You know…to, uh, _numb the pain_ of losing."

Both he and Wallace glanced over when the door slid open and there stood Glacia, beautiful and dignified as ever though she looked a tad annoyed at the moment. She looked at the two of them. "Drake said you two were up here."

"A glorious battle, as always, Glacia," Wallace praised.

"Nothing short of perfection. That kid didn't have a chance," added Sidney.

The compliments rolled off of her like water. Instead of responding, she said, "Perhaps we should lobby the Pokemon Association with harsher guidelines as to what a trainer is required to do before he or she is allowed to challenge us." Her fine eyebrows drew into a frown. "I tire of being summoned to these pointless battles by these passionless fools who are barely skilled enough to be trainers let alone Pokemon Masters."

Wallace and Sidney exchanged a look before Sidney complacently said, "Oh, now now, Glacia. There's no need to be so harsh on them. We all had to start somewhere."

Glacia just raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, so Sidney changed tactics. "Forget about them. Come have a drink with me and Phoebe. She said she's heading home tonight, so I thought it'd be fun to give her a good going home bash. What do you say?"

"Well…" Glacia hesitated, still leery of the many social events that she was required to take part in as a trainer of the Elite Four.

Sidney turned the charm up a notch. "Come on, Glacia. It won't be the same without you. Plus, we won't see Phoebe for months! We HAVE to make this one memorable. Until she comes back, that is."

After another beat of hesitation, Glacia nodded, "Fine. I will join you two misfits for the night."

Surprise flashed across Sidney's face; Glacia normally turned his invitations down without a second thought. "You will? Oh! I mean awesome! That's great!" He smirked, then, "Ha! I knew you'd cave in to my charms eventually!"

Glacia merely rolled her eyes and looked to Wallace. "Will you be joining us, Wallace?"

Wallace smiled but shook his head, "I'm afraid I must decline. I, too, am leaving for a time."

"You are?" Sidney blinked at this and then gave him a sly smile. "Ah, let me guess…Steven? Oww!"

"Have some class. It's none of your business," Glacia hissed with a condemning look as Sidney rubbed his head where she'd whacked him.

Wallace couldn't help but chuckle. Glacia and Sidney were so different that it was always amusing to watch them interact. He took pity upon Sidney and said, "No, no. It's not that at all. Steven is on a dig with his father. I've arranged to spend a few weeks in Sootopolis City to help Master Juan."

His words had a note of wistfulness and excitement. He was looking forward to the break. Being the Champion of Hoenn was an honor…but a time consuming one. The challenges made to the Elite Four and Champion were carefully screened from a selective pool of those who had not only collected all of the gym badges of the region but who had also made it to the top three of the Hoenn Conference. It was with this strict set of stipulations that the Pokemon Association ensured that not just any trainer with some skills could somehow weasel through to challenge the top five trainers of the Hoenn region.

While it worked to keep the number of challenges down, it was still a pain. At each challenge, every member of the Elite Four and Champion had to be present, lest there finally come a day when a challenger worthy to attain the title of the next Hoenn Champion enter Ever Grande City. Wallace had been waiting for the period during which there would be no challenges for a while, such as the period was about to begin. Normally, he would spend the time with his lover, the ex-Champion and heir of the illustrious Devon Corporation family, Steven Stone.

However, it looked as if he would not get to see Steven for some time, at least not until the end of the latest geological excavation that Steven and his father had gone on. Wallace had been disappointed when Steven told him about the coming dig. They were both Pokemon Masters with their own busy lives outside of the title; time together was rare enough. But…one look at how excited Steven had been, by the way his pale gray eyes seemed to light up as he spoke animatedly of the potential rocks they could find, had made Wallace smile and simply wish him a safe trip.

Steven must have sensed his true feelings, though, for he had smiled gently and took Wallace's hand. He had pulled him closer and kissed him, first on the lips and then on the forehead, murmuring against Wallace's skin, "_I'll be back as soon as possible. I promise_."

Wallace was so lost in the warm memory that he almost didn't notice that Sidney and Glacia were staring at him. Sidney laughed and remarked, "Uh oh. He has that look in his eye again, Glacia."

Wallace flushed as Glacia wryly added, "Perhaps the Sootopolis story is merely a cover-up and he is going to see Steven after all."

"Yes, that sounds about right," said Sidney snidely, chuckling.

"Oh really, now," Wallace chided. He shook his head and threw his hands up in defeat. "Leave me be and go drink yourself silly. I take my leave now. Farewell until the next time we meet!"

Sidney's smug voice followed him out the door and down the stairs: "Tell Steven we say hi!"

Wallace smiled to himself and just shook his head, used to such teasing. Still, he couldn't help but sigh to himself wistfully. If only he _was_ going to see Steven!


	3. Homecoming

_**Tracing Origins**_

A/N: Special thanks to The Original Brown Squirrel. Good gracious, you responded so quickly! Haha, thank you for the review! I hope I don't disapppoint.

**Chapter Two: Homecoming**

Steven drifted back to consciousness to the sound of a soft, worried voice beside his ear. He wasn't sure what was happening or why there was a muted ringing in his head. His limbs felt as if they'd been encased in heavy cement. In fact, his entire body felt heavy, and it was an uphill battle to even force his eyes open.

Of all the things his sluggish mind had expected, finding himself in the arms of a woman dressed in the same uniform of the very grunts he'd just been running from was last on the list. She wasn't paying him any attention, though. Her face was tense, pinched with worry as she gazed somewhere he didn't have the strength to lift his head to see.

"Damn it," the dark-haired woman muttered. He winced as her none too gentle grip on him upset the gaping hole in his side. His groan made her head snap around to look to look at him. Under the dark Team Rocket cap, he found a pair of pale green eyes, wide and surprised, fixed on him. There was a kindness in her voice that he didn't expect to hear from a grunt, "Oh god. Hold on, okay? I'm gonna' get you out of here."

Steven's head lolled back limply. He regarded her with a wary, exhausted look, in pain but still coherent enough to know that this wasn't right. "Who…why are you…"

His words were lost as the world shook violently. The thundering rumble of an explosion trembled through the earth and scattered terrified Pokemon from the trees surrounding them. The woman tightened her hold on him again and lurched away, screaming for someone over her shoulder to 'COME ON!' as Steven gasped in agony at her fingers digging unintentionally into his wound.

A jolt of adrenaline, urged by his pain, shot through him, and he weakly tried to dislodge her fingers. His vision was flashing in alarming hazes of red, and the pulsating waves of fire that came from the wound made him wheeze and splutter for her to let go.

"Stop it! We need to get out of here!" She snapped and suddenly veered, throwing them both to the ground as a beam of hot red blasted over them, incinerating everything in its path. She had been kind enough to throw him down on his uninjured side but the impacted jarred his entire body. The agony blossomed anew. His tortured groan was lost in the calamity of falling, burning trees.

"Gen-gar."

Steven cracked his eyes open a sliver while he continued to pant in response to the waves of pain. Standing beside his head was the same Pokemon that had saved him. Only the mischievous leer on its face was now a tense look in the woman's direction—presumably its trainer.

"Gengar. Gennn garr…" it rasped.

"Yeah, I got that," the woman sighed and pushed herself up into a crouch. "How many?"

Its reply was lost on Steven, for a sharp, joyful cry zipped through the fog of pain in his head like a welcome beam of sunshine.

"Aron!" Aron cried and hurried over to him when it saw that he was awake. Steven turned his head to seek out his Pokemon.

"Aron…you're okay…" He breathed, feeling drained. The pain had begun to lessen in agonizingly slow increments, leaving him exhausted and out of breath. His eyes were watering as he gave Aron a weak smile.

"Aron…" Aron chided and nuzzled him under his chin affectionately. The Metal-type then sniffed worriedly at his wound and threw him an anxious look, "Arrr-on?"

He was asking him if he was okay. The Pokemon knew him well and knew by his sluggish responses that the wound was far worse than Steven would let on. Not that he was trying to fool anyone into thinking otherwise. He simply didn't have the strength.

The exchange hadn't been lost on the woman. She eyed him carefully, assessing his condition. Then she informed him tartly, "They're gaining on us. If we don't keep moving, we don't have a chance. If we can make it to west coast by sun down, we can hijack one of the boats and use the darkness for cover…"

She was silently asking him to hold on for just a bit longer. He appreciated that she wasn't even attempting to hide how dire a situation they were in. His thoughts were becoming foggy from the blood loss, and he didn't like it.

Steven squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep breaths to calm himself, the constant ache in his side becoming _slightly_ more bearable, "Then…we should get going."

* * *

Wallace was welcomed home by a warm gust of salty air against his face. His eyes drifted closed, and he emitted a low hum of pleasure, making sure to take a deep breath of the tropical atmosphere. It was a refreshing change from the coldness that permeated the Elite Four's tower in Ever Grande City. 

_It's nice to be home._ Wallace thought. He opened his eyes to a chorus of cheering that filled the partially enclosed chamber of Sootopolis City. Streamers of all colors were hung along the buildings. People were jam-packed in the streets and walkways, eagerly leaning over the railings waving and joyously calling his name. Children were cascading confetti and flower petals from the homes that hung over the water. A short distance from the dock was a scattering of floats in the water, which contained people and Pokemon making music on various instruments.

It was a hero's welcome home. It was Sootopolis City's way of reminding the world how proud they were to have bred amongst them the Hoenn Elite Four Chamption. It was all for _him_.

_I'll never get used to this._ Wallace thought, cheeks a touch pink, as he waved in reply. As if they heard his thoughts, he could feel the amusement vibrating in the Poke Balls lining his belt. _Ah, let us not forget the real stars…_

"Your welcome fills this humble soul with warmth, my dear people! But allow me to bring out the true heroes of our tale! My flowers of the Sea…emerge!" He announced and threw all six of the Poke Balls at once.

The boisterous cheers increased in volume. Excitement electrified the air as Wallace's faithful team of Water Pokemon appeared in a brilliant flash of light. Wallace smiled serenely down on them, a deep sense of awe rising in his chest like it always did whenever he witnessed the majesty of his Pokemon.

Wailord eagerly made a beeline towards the harbor. His impressive size combined with his dark navy colored hide was a sight to behold. He eased along side the underwater ferry that Wallace stood on the deck of, eyeing him happily. Then he let out a deep, brassy keen to greet the denizens of Sootopolis.

Behind him was Whiscash. The clever--if somewhat silly--Pokemon's charming awkwardness made him a hit among those who laid eyes on him. Wallace too was swept up by the Pokemon's unexpected charisma and often found himself laughing whenever Whiscash purposely did strange things in order to shock people or his opponents. Even now he was entertaining: swooping in graceful loops through the water as he beamed at the crowd.

Next to him was Ludicolo, who slid through the water smoothly, using only his stubby legs to propel him. He was happily waving and blowing kisses back to the people. The green sombrero-like top of his head combined with his chubby yellow body made for a funny sight but there was no mistaking the power the grass and water-type commanded. He and Whiscash basked in the attention they received with little shame.

Following to the left of the ferry was the more sedated trek of Tentacruel. The large jelly-fish like Pokemon slid so effortlessly through the water that it was nothing short of watching a hot knife slice through butter. He ignored the cheers and calls of the crowd completely, his sharp eyes fixed on the harbor and food. The large red jewel-like knobs on his head seemed to glow in the sunlight, and his thick tentacles trailed after him like snakes.

Moving to the other side of the ferry was the team's other reclusive member: Gyarados. The blue serpentine-like Dragon-type was shyer than his fierce appearance would lead others to believe. While he was a terrible force to be reckoned with in battle, Wallace knew firsthand how his Gyarados often shied away from the limelight. One of his challenges as a young trainer had been to help a shy Magikarp to overcome stage fright. Now, Wallace only smiled fondly as he watched that same Pokemon--in his much more ferocious shell--as he cast a timid glance to all the faces adoringly fixed on him.

Last but not least was the heart of Wallace's line up. Wallace's breath hitched at the breath-taking sight of the Pokemon that swam right in front of the ferry. Milotic, one of the rarest and most precious treasures of the Sea. Milotic…his kindred spirit. The sleek Water-type was the paradigm of elegance as he proudly led the ferry and fellow Pokemon to shore like a king would his court after a long march home. Even those in attendance felt the presence—the _radiance_—of the Pokemon and watched him in complete and utter wonder.

Wallace lifted his eyes from his beloved six. A figure patiently stood on the harbor. His presence was a commanding one, only accentuated more by the crisp decorated blue overcoat and dark purple suit beneath it. Wallace felt himself instinctively straightening up at the sight of his old mentor, the Sootopolis Gym Leader Juan.

"Welcome home, Wallace! It has been a long time," Juan greeted with an elegant bow, an arm folding across his abdomen and the other behind his back.

"Too long, my Master," Wallace answered, returning the bow the moment his feet left the ferry and hit the harbor.

When they straightened, the pride in Juan's gaze filled Wallace with warmth. Even now, years after becoming his own man and a great trainer in his own right, Wallace still found a deep sense of accomplishment in impressing his teacher. The man's brilliance, talent, and sophistication had been what he'd sought his entire childhood as he studied to be worthy of even calling himself a student of the great Juan, the Master of Illusions.

Juan greeted his Pokemon properly. Then he beckoned for Wallace to walk with him. "I admit. It was a pleasant surprise to hear from you, my student. And especially that you would be returning to your home during your next free interval! So even the Elites must rest…"

Wallace chuckled at the ribbing, "We've a few months in between this cycle of challengers until the next, after the next Hoenn Conference. I thought it best to spend it reacquainting myself with my origins."

At this, Juan cocked an impish eyebrow at him, "Ah, and this would have nothing to do with the fact that the illustrious Devon Corporation president and his son are on another excavation?"

"Oh? That is news to me. I'll have to pass along a word of good luck to them," Wallace smoothly replied, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Juan let out a low chortle, shaking his head. Wallace glanced to the Gym that sat isolated on its own island near the center of the crater of water in Sootopolis.

"None of that now, Wallace," Juan chided, making Wallace give him a curious look. His former teacher merely smiled and gestured to all the eager faces still on him and the festive surroundings. "This party is _your_ homecoming. What gentleman would dare to refuse hospitality when it is so graciously given? Come, my dear student, let us celebrate your return the proper way!"

* * *

Not for the first time, Cyrus Kendall wondered what in the hell had possessed him to follow the path that he had. He'd grown up in a small town in Kanto, had attended and graduated from one of the top Academies in the region, and had gone on to become a fantastic Pokemon trainer who'd even made it as far as sixth place in the Silver Conference and Fourth in a minor League in Johto. With such accomplishments under his belt, he could have gone on to do whatever he wanted.

"So tell me again, _why_ I'm on communications duty?" He whined and slumped back into the cheap pleather back of his chair.

His legs were outstretched and crossed at the ankles on the wide computer console in front of him. An array of monitors spanned the length of an entire wall, each containing a different scene from various places around the world. With the flick of a few switches and the press of certain buttons, he could tap into a staggering number of audio networks that would transmit all sorts of juicy information through the headphones currently resting on his neck. He merely, however, dangled his hand down and scratched the soft fur behind his faithful companion's ear, letting out a gaping yawn.

"Groww…" came the bored snuffle at the foot of the chair. Seagram was a male Growlithe that was happiest when he was outside. Whether it was sniffing out impossible trails left behind by fleeing criminals or the brutal thrill of combat or just relaxing in the fresh air, Seagram didn't care as long as he wasn't cooped up inside…like he was _now_.

"Sorry, pal. I know you hate this even more than I do," Kendall apologized, offering his partner a small, lop-sided smile. Seagram just let out a sigh and continued to stare absently at the cold, metallic gray wall underneath the control console.

_I'd better just leave him alone._ Kendall thought and threaded his fingers together behind his head, leaning back into his seat. He gazed absently at the wall of monitors, not really seeing any of them as his mind drifted into daydreams. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was pulled out of a most comfortable fantasy about that cute girl in Research and Development. Seagram had suddenly jumped to his feet and made an alarmed noise.

Kendall nearly fell out of his char. He glanced at the Growlithe, "Seagram? What is it? What…"

He trailed off when he realized that something was _beeping_.

His eyes automatically went to the assortment of monitors. He frantically scanned each, jabbing at certain keys on the keyboard to find the source of the beeping. This wasn't his field of expertise but if there was one thing he knew, it was that beeping was _never_ good.

Seagram leapt up so that his front paws rested on the console. His sharp eyes roved over the monitors along with Kendall's. Kendall rapidly searched for the source of the noise. It may be nothing…or something big. He suspected the latter since in his line of business, trouble was not scarce.

"Ah, I think I've got it," He said and typed in the command to bring up Monitor X43. The screen seemed to shoot right out of the monitor and enlarge before their eyes into a holographic projection. It took Kendall only a second to realize that they were staring at the obscure, curved green lines of a map of some unknown place. There were a few marks of interest made on the map but near the left edge was where Kendall's eyes were drawn. There was a large red dot fixed there, blinking brightly and calmly though the beeping that had alerted them to take a look was a clear call of alarm.

Kendall felt his hear sink as he saw the small notation that accentuated the dot:

_D2 S7 F.N. Signal lost at 4:24:49A.M. EST_

"Shit."

* * *

As his homecoming party continued to rage outside, Wallace excused himself for a few moments to get his head together and—namely—call Steven. He wanted to check in with his lover to see if he'd safely made it to the dig site. Not that he really needed to. Steven was more than capable of taking care of himself. However, to hear Steven confirm that he was where he was supposed to be reassured Wallace. So it was a ritual that he steadfastly followed, even though Steven teased him for it. 

_Steven's laugh was warm and rich. His silver eyes took on a deep gold-orange glow in the wake of the fire cheerfully burning in the fireplace. Wallace was held entranced by them as the arms around his neck drew him downward. The two men lay entwined together on a large, thick rug spread in front of the fireplace of Steven's small home in Mossdeep City. Nothing was between them but the heat of skin against skin. A thin blanket of cashmere was pooled against the small of Wallace's back and draped only to cover their legs._

"_My big protective husband…haha, how sweet," Steven murmured, his lips an agonizingly short distance from Wallace's, so close that he could feel the small puffs of air on his lips when Steven spoke. Wallace tightened his arms around Steven's waist, his eyes never leaving the molten pools of silver and gold that held him. Steven smirked, a tiny upward movement at the corner of his lips that spoke volumes._

_He pulled one hand back to rest against the side of Wallace's face. His fingers loosely raked through the loose blue tresses of hair that spilled down the sides of Wallace's face. Wallace's skin prickled and burned simultaneously under the pleasant, tentative touch._

_Steven's smile broadened and Wallace felt himself in awe. It was ethereal to witness such beauty: the melding of such inner warmth and that of the fire blazing beside them into perfect harmony. It took Wallace's breath away, and suddenly, he didn't want for there to be even the few centimeters separating them any longer. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to Steven's, enjoying the small, delighted noise he was rewarded in response…_

"Er…Sir Wallace? Are you okay?"

Wallace nearly jumped out of his skin. His sharp movement sent his cell phone flying out of his hand, and the person that had startled him dove to catch it. Instead of shattering to pieces against the ground, the phone ended up safely nestled in the hands of a frizzy-haired, freckle-faced young girl.

Two large, doe-like brown eyes appeared from under the mop of bushy brown hair. They settled on the phone in her hands and the girl let out a sigh, "Whew! That was close!"

"Oh my heavens. Forgive me! Are you okay?" Wallace said, extending a hand to help her up.

She misinterpreted his gesture and handed over the cell phone. Before he could say anything further, she had leapt to her feet, brushing off dirt from her clothing and muttering darkly about a newly formed scrape on her arm. Wallace was about to apologize again, but then she looked up, not even the slightest bit begrudging as she smiled widely at him. There were actually _stars_ in her eyes.

"Oh, I've waited SO long to meet you, Sir Wallace!" the girl, who couldn't have been any older than twelve, gushed breezily, eyeing him with nothing short of adoration.

A little taken back by the unexpected reaction, it took a moment for Wallace regain his bearings, "Um…thank you. For my phone, I mean. Are you alright…miss…?"

She made a small noise of annoyance at herself and then offered him that hundred-watt smile again. She extended a confident hand, "Oh! It's B-Brenne! Just Brenne, Sir Wallace! And I'm so _very_ honored to meet you! I…I can hardly believe it!"

Though Wallace was no stranger to the respect he commanded from younger trainers (even if all the gushing and idolizing was embarrassing), he couldn't help but to smile at the earnest joy in her face. He shook her hand, dipping his head, "The honor is mine. Please. Let us cast aside titles. Call me Wallace, for I am in your debt."

A pink tinge flooded Brenne's face; she looked as if he'd just bestowed upon her a sacred relic. She gave him a bashful smile and then said, "It was nothing." Then her face brightened when she seemed to suddenly remember something, "Oh! Master Juan sent me to find you, S…er, W-Wallace! The mayor is about to give a speech in your honor."

"Ah, of course," Wallace said. "Please tell him I will be out momentarily. I need only a minute."

Brenne nodded, her frizzy mess of hair bouncing on her head, "Yessir! I will tell him." She turned to go, paused, and turned, offering another large toothy smile, "It…it was nice to meet you! Imseriouslyyournumberonefan!"

With that rushed squeak, she fled. Wallace was left to blink, a smile tugging again at his lips as his mind tried to keep up with the girl's youthful whirlwind of energy. Shaking his head ruefully, he dialed Steven's number from memory and turned back to the beautiful mosaic of turquoise, blue, and green tiles that adorned the back of the building he'd taken shelter behind. He pressed the phone against his ear and let his eyes wander over the tiles as he awaited a response.

The cold voice of a recording filled his ears, "_Unable to connect call. The user you are trying to reach is not connected to any accessible network. Please try again later."_

Wallace pulled the phone back and frowned at it. It wasn't too farfetched to receive this sort of message since the excavations often led Steven deep underground where digital signals couldn't reach the outside world. What _was_ strange was that Steven—mindful of Wallace's worrying—always called before he delved into his explorations if he did not hear from Wallace first.

_Could he have forgotten? No, that's not like him…_Wallace thought, the seeds of worry planting themselves into his thoughts. He was distracted from his thoughts by a joyous roar from the crowd, followed by an announcement that Mayor Flo had just entered the scene…probably to make her speech welcoming _him_ home.

It would be unforgivably discourteous to be absent during the grand public spectacle. Sighing, Wallace ducked out of the quiet nook and fingered the redial button, hoping to somehow catch just a few words with his other half before diving back into the all too vigilant eye of the public.

* * *

Somewhere deep in the heart of a dense, dark forest, a Rocket peon crouched to examine whatever it was that his Vulpix had just found. It wasn't hard to identify, even smashed to pieces as it was. It was a cell phone, a pricey one at that. _That _obviously hadn't stopped the boot someone had taken to it. 

"Heh," he snorted, amused, "so the bitch realized how we were tracking them. Ah well. It doesn't matter. This fucking rock is nothing but an island. They don't have anywhere to go but to the other side. And when they _do_ get there and run into our guys waiting…"

He smirked and mimed with his thumb the picture of his throat being slashed. Vulpix just coldly looked at him, waiting patiently for them to continue the hunt. If he could be sure that she wouldn't tear his hand off, he would have pet her like he did his regular Pokemon. To avoid such discomfort, he ignored the impulse and rose, reaching to his belt to radio in that he'd found a clue to where their intruders were headed.


	4. Dreaming Awake and Asleep

_**Tracing Origins**_

A/N: As always, thank you for the positive responses!

**Chapter Three: Dreaming Awake and Asleep**

The sound of soft cursing ushered Steven back to consciousness for what must have been the sixth (seventh? He'd lost track) time. It had been growing increasingly difficult to awaken from the unnatural darkness. He felt strained just pushing his heavy eyelids open. The effort took him a good minute and even longer for his fatigued brain to figure out what was going on.

It was dark, wherever he was. Well, not as dark as the all encompassing blackness of unconsciousness that he'd been in but still. After a few confused moments, he realized that he was lying on the ground, propped carefully up on his uninjured side. Also, he was behind a…bush? What in the world? Was this some kind of dream?

He started out of these fuzzy musings at the crisp, worried voice that was jabbering quietly somewhere to his right:

"Gengar, what about the northern path? There too?"

A gravelly voice grimly replied, "Gennn gar. Gen gen gengar."

"Shit. They're cutting us off faster than we can move."

Steven was confused. Who was that? After a few minutes of listening to the woman discuss possible routes of travel with the Gengar, the memories slowly returned to him. Right. The pair that had saved him back in the lab.

"Aron?"

Steven jumped, taken off guard by the concerned, high pitched voice that suddenly appeared beside his ear. His alarm dissipated the moment Aron's softly glowing blue eyes appeared in his line of sight. He sagged back against the hard surface he'd been leant against, drained and relieved, "Aron…"

"Arrr on. Arrr onnn," Aron purred worriedly, nuzzling him under his chin.

Steven attempted to smile reassuringly but could manage only a weak upturn of his lips. His eyelids were growing so heavy that it was hard to concentrate. Aron's shiny metallic figure was blurring before him as it was. It looked funny, like a mess of fuzzy blobs in different colors that made sounds and…

"Aron..?"

Steven jumped again, eyes snapping open and wildly darting around to see where he was. His heart was pounding in tune with the pain that pulsed in his side. Aron let out an alarmed yip and pleaded for him to calm down.

Steven frowned. Aron was here? And…where _was_ here? What was going on? Wait…was he _bleeding?!_

He gasped as he involuntarily dug two probing fingers into a hastily wrapped bandage around his lower torso. The tips of his fingers came away wet, and even in the dim light that filtered through the leaves and branches (what in the world?) covering him and Aron, Steven could make out the distinct red of blood. His head jerked downward and all he could do was blink in bewilderment at the missing half of his shirt where instead a makeshift bandage stretched across his abdomen. His pounding head was blank, offering no explanation. Panic quickly crept into his thoughts.

Aron wiggled forward and pressed its head into his chest, cooing, "Aron! Ar-on! Arr onn!"

"Aron," he gasped in midst of the panic. He choked and let out a string of wet, painful coughs. The sharp shaking motion sent fire jettisoning through his body from the wound on his side. Steven squeezed his eyes shut and instinctively curled up, clinging to a frantic Aron for dear life as he waited for the pain to abate.

He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. A low voice followed, "Hey, hey! It's okay. Relax! Just calm down and breathe. Breathe! Aron, move for a second. Let me see."

"Arronn…" Aron whimpered in apology and squirmed out of Steven's arms.

Steven felt himself be gently pushed back onto his back. He weakly forced his eyes open and blinked several times to dispel the mist of tears obscuring his vision. Much to his astonishment, a woman with dark hair and a _Team Rocket_ uniform was crouched over him. She was carefully moving the bandage aside, checking his wound while muttering worriedly under her breath.

He was too disoriented by pain and fatigue to get past how absurd it was that a Team Rocket minion was actually checking over his injury with the utmost care. He stared at her woozily until she seemed finished and pulled the bandage back into place. Swallowing to wet his parched throat, Steven asked, "Who…are you?"

She let out an impatient sigh, not even looking at him, "We've already been through this twice. I'm…"

She trailed off as some unknown realization hit her. She looked up and pierced him with a critical, pale green gaze that explored his face. Had he been in a more lucid state, he might have noticed the dread that filled her eyes before she wordlessly moved and lifted his head, tilting it forward. He _did_ let out a feeble protest as his face was practically shoved into her bosom while she inspected something on the back of his head.

He let out a muffled cry of pain as her fingers raked through his hair and hit a sore spot. She cursed again, "Damnit, I didn't notice this before. Damn damn damn…okay, okay. Relax. Okay..."

The woman nimbly reached back into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a roll of gauze. Steven stared at it, feeling faint and unsteady. He blinked slowly, "What…?"

"I think you have a concussion," She explained tersely. He winced as he felt her fingers tentatively edge their way around the newly discovered wound on the back of his head. So _that_ was the source of that infernal hammering in his skull.

"It's not bleeding, but I'm going to wrap it just in case it gets reopened," She went on, doing exactly as she said.

Steven gave her a blank look, "Why…would it get…reopened…?"

Her eyebrows furrowed worriedly but she just shook her head, muttering, "Nevermind. Stay still."

"Gen-gar," the ghost-type urgently said from somewhere behind the woman.

"Yes, Gengar. I _know_. Believe me, I know!" she retorted, tightening the bandage around Steven's head. He winced as the added pressure sent another dull spike of pain shooting through the already familiar throbbing between his temples. She muttered an apology and then jumped to her feet, finished. Her attention was already back on Gengar, "Okay, we might have bought ourselves a few minutes but--"

Something she saw that Steven could not made her stop mid sentence and drop low, her arm draping itself over him so she could drag him down to the earth as well. He stifled his cry in his arm as the action disturbed his side once more. Before Steven could even formulate a question as to _why_ they were suddenly eating dirt, he got an answer.

A boot came down with a resounding thud unto a twig, snapping it neatly in two and crunching the brittle leaves attached to it. Steven's heart began to race when he realized how close the boot was, separated from his face only by darkness and a few measly leaves and branches of the thick brush that they were hidden behind. Even in his blunted state, he felt the danger of their situation.

By the way her body tensed up, he knew that she felt it too. He ventured a look in her direction and found her staring hard into the booted feet before them. Neither of them dared to breath, counting the endless seconds before this menace would depart. Then he saw her make a sharp movement of her head.

When Gengar suddenly appeared in front of them, using its ability to move through matter without disturbing it, Steven realized she'd been signaling to the Pokemon. Gengar silently crouched in front of them within the branches and leaves, its blood red eyes fixed on the Rocket. Steven didn't even dare to look down when he felt the comforting weight of Aron press against him, his eyes transfixed on what Gengar was about to do to the Rocket.

Through what visibility Gengar's transparent form allowed, they watched as the Rocket scanned the area. A thin beam of light was shining across the small enclosing of trees and bushes from the scope on the weapon that he swung around in his search. Steven couldn't make out more than a silhouette, but it wasn't hard to guess that he was searching…probably for them.

The light was blinding as it was aimed in their direction. Steven winced, squinting against the onslaught of illumination even as his heart leapt into his throat in alarm. Aron tensed at his side in anticipation for battle while the woman stiffened. Gengar edged forward…

Then, as fast as the beam of light was on them, it was swung away again. The Rocket let out hefty sigh, irritated. There was the squall of a radio, followed by his gruff voice, "Sector four clear. If they came this way, I ain't seen em' yet."

A crackle, then: "Roger that, Sev. Keep your eyes peeled. They can't have gotten that far from your position."

"Roger. Over and out," Sev answered. He made another cursory glance around before sighing and marching off.

Steven exhaled a soft, shaky breath. Gengar tentatively leaned its head out to make sure that they were safe and then signaled to its trainer that the path was clear. For now, anyway.

The woman visibly relaxed. Steven, on the other hand, felt drained by the scare. He blinked hard several times, the adrenaline ebbing. Feeling faint, he sagged against the unfamiliar woman, and she hastily wound an arm around him to catch him.

"Aron?" asked Aron softly but Steven couldn't muster the energy to comfort him.

"Just hang on for a little longer," she urged quietly. When his eyelids began to shut of their own accord, she gave him a stern but gentle shake, "Hey. Don't fall asleep. We can't risk it, not with your head injury."

What she didn't understand was that he was _trying_ to stay awake, even when the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness welcomed him. Would it really be so bad for him to just give in? Maybe he could just shut his eyes for a few seconds? That wouldn't be so bad…

She shook him again to rouse him, "Come on, man. Work with me. Keep your eyes open."

"Gen gar gengar," the ghost-type spoke up. It was growing increasingly agitated with their lack of mobility. Their pursuers weren't decreasing in numbers any time soon nor would _they_ be able to gain any ground by staying as they were.

Steven felt something press against his leg. He found Aron looking up at him steadily. He met the small steel-type's eyes for a few heartbeats and then felt a deep calm settle in place of the fear and uncertainty in his chest. No, there was no giving up. Not after everything they'd seen and been through together. Aron was there and so long as he was, he would not allow it.

_Thank you, my friend._ Steven thought gratefully. Aron seemed to hear him anyway and nuzzled his leg, accompanying his action with noises of encouragement.

The woman noticed the change and gave him a half-amused, half-moved look after the moment had passed, "All good then? All right…" With a soft grunt, she stood, hefting him up with surprising strength in the arm that was draped around his waist. She was, thankfully, at least careful not to further agitate his wound.

"Just a bit longer…" She breathed, leading them out of their hiding spot and back into the darkness.

* * *

Even after a long day of celebrating and jet-lag from his trip to Sootopolis, Wallace found that sleep did not come to him easily. Normally, the soothing, steady sound of waves, broken only by the occasional squall of a Wingull, and the familiar saltiness that permeated Sootopolis' tropical atmosphere were enough to lull him into slumber. The ambiance of his home town worked wonders in cleansing a troubled mind of worries.

_Well, it's certainly not working tonight._ Wallace thought peevishly as he turned from his right to his left side. It wasn't hard to figure out why. He sighed and flopped back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom.

_Perhaps I should contact his father. Just to ensure that he is safe._ Wallace mused, tracing the irregular shadows cast by the light and popcorn textured stucco with his eyes. He frowned. _But if he _did_ arrive at the dig site, surely he would have called me by now. Unless something happened…?_

Frustrated, he rolled back onto his side and stared absently at the far wall. Steven may have teased him about being a mother hen, but it was something that was just in his nature, _especially_ when it involved Steven.

His eyes were drawn to the many frames that adorned the wall that he was facing. The pale evening light that spilled in from the room's single window bathed the frames in irregular stripes of luminance. In these frames were contained pictures that immortalized some of Wallace's most memorable experiences, of his most cherished memories.

There were various ones from his childhood. One was of him at five standing proudly with his parents, arms straining to hold a Feebas nearly as large as he was. Another was a snapshot from his first thrilling (and ultimately unsuccessful) gym battle. There was the one of him and the rest of his classmates standing outside the Sootopolis Gym with a young, dashing Juan. Besides it was another of him bearing his place in third the first time he competed in the Hoenn Conference.

Wallace found himself smiling as he traversed down memory lane, using the pictures as his guide. His gaze inevitably fell on one of his favorites. The picture's setting was in a small café in Ever Grande City. Featured in the picture was a younger version of _him_ as well as that of Steven on the day that Wallace had stepped down as Hoenn's Champion…

_When Wallace had announced his renouncement of the Champion role, he fully anticipated the shock that it elicited. After all, it was absurd to strive as hard as he had to dominate the other challengers, the Elite Four, and the--now former—Champion only to throw it away to become a _Gym Leader _of all things. His explanation as to _why_ he'd chosen to become Sootopolis' Gym Leader instead of his hard-won title had puzzled them even more._

_To be fair, his reason __**had**__ only been a half-truth. Wallace hardly found it appropriate to let the Pokemon Association in on his private life, though. Plus, there was the _teensy, tiny_ fact that Winona might have some protest about his giving up such a prestigious position because he wanted to have more time to be with her. She would never be happy knowing that. Therefore, Wallace was content to let her and the world think that he simply wished to follow in Juan's footsteps, to take over as Sootopolis' Gym Leader._

"_Well," said the baffled chairman of the Pokemon Association, "if that is truly your wish…"_

_Wallace nodded, feeling all eyes in the room burning into him in bewilderment. "It is indeed, Mister Chairman. I apologize for the abruptness of my decision, but I have entertained this notion for some time. Only now have I, at last, decided to take the same path of that of my Master's."_

_The chairman looked dismayed but nodded. The Association could not force him into keeping the Hoenn Champion title. "Very well then, Master Wallace. The Association will honor your wishes."_

"_You have my utmost gratitude, Mister Chairman," Wallace thanked with an inclination of his head. He studied the man's face for a moment. Noting the air of disappointment that hung around the older man, Wallace spoke again, this time with great conviction and firm, unshakable confidence. "I leave the honor in more than capable hands. Of that, I am certain."_

_In his peripheral vision, Wallace saw the man standing beside him stiffen in surprise. Despite himself, Wallace smiled fondly. He truly meant every word. There was not even a hint of doubt in his entire being that Steven Stone, the young heir to the Devon Corp. family and extremely talented trainer, would make a fantastic Champion. Wallace's victory over Steven in their last fateful battle had been a hair's breath from defeat, something Wallace only managed to avoid with the dedication of his Pokemon, all of his skills, and—he was certain—a lot of luck._

_Steven, his good friend and equal, was more than worthy to be the Champion of Hoenn._

_The Chairman's assenting nod was instantaneous. "I agree whole-heartedly, Master Wallace."_

_The man turned in the direction where Steven was watching. Wallace's smile deepened as he saw the astonished look still on Steven's face. He knew that Steven had been curious as to why he had been summoned to meet with Wallace and the Chairman but had been too polite to voice the question. The Association head nodded his permission for the current Champion to take up his right in passing the title unto his successor. _

"_Steven Stone," intoned Wallace, turning to the stunned man. "You have proven beyond every shadow of a doubt your mastery in not only combat but in your understanding of the duty every trainer holds with his or her Pokemon. With this and the faith of your Pokemon, you have proven your merit as not only a phenomenal trainer but one worthy to ascend the heights of greatness."_

_Wallace fingered the strings that secured the ceremonial white cape around his shoulders. With a tug, the cape easily slid off. Wallace carefully spread it out in front of him, to let the light illuminate the pristine white garment. Then he turned to Steven, who visibly started at the __**very **__unexpected turn of events._

"_It is my honor to confer upon you the title of Champion of the Hoenn region. This is the Cape of the Champion. Wear it proudly, Steven Stone," Wallace solemnly declared, his head bowed as he reverently held out the cape to Steven. He had a sudden flashback to the day HE had received the cape from the former Champion and the pride that he had felt as he slid the cape over his shoulders for the first time._

_The Chairman echoed his gesture. Wallace kept his eyes on Steven, though. For he saw the torn look on Steven's face as his friend gaped at him, expression uncertain and incredulous. He did not even look as if he was sure that this was really happening._

_When Steven's eyes met his, Wallace smiled encouragingly, infusing his expression with as much confidence and support as he could. He ignored the regret that briefly welled up inside of him as the honor he'd fought so hard for slipped from his grasp. It was not appropriate to feel regret now, Wallace told himself firmly. He had made his choice._

_Some of the anxiety slowly seeped from Steven's expression, at least. Blinking rapidly (as if to ensure that he was not dreaming), the silver-haired man returned the bow as he took the cape into his hands, "Thank you, Master Wallace. Mister Chairman. I…I will defend the honor you have bestowed upon me to the fullest."_

_Wallace nodded, a melancholic smile on his face, "Please follow me then. We will register your Pokemon. Then you and your team will enter the Hall of Fame as League Champions."_

_Steven nodded absently, still looking overwhelmed. He was alternating between staring at Wallace and at the cape in his hands. The Chairman watched them from behind his desk, a benevolent smile on his face._

"_Congratulations, Mister Stone! You will make a fine Champion. You have the Pokemon Association's utmost support," the Chairman praised quietly._

"_Th-Thank you, Sir," Steven answered automatically. His eyes were on Wallace's, and the Water Master could see the hoard of questions gathering behind his friend's bright gray eyes. Wallace gave a small shake of his head, still smiling, and promised--without words—to explain soon._

_Both Steven and Wallace bowed to the Chairman and departed. They walked side by side without speaking for a few moments. Finally, Steven broke the silence._

"_You could have _at least_ warned me," he remarked quietly._

_Wallace winced and gave his friend an apologetic look. "Yes…I should have. I apologize for not showing the proper consideration. I…I would be lying if I told you that this was a decision made over night."_

"_What _was_ it that brought this on?" Steven asked with an edge of incredulity still in his voice. "It…it's quite sudden, Wallace."_

"_I…I am merely trying to rearrange my priorities in life," Wallace answered carefully, looking forward towards the door they were walking to. He was not quite ready to depart with the real reason behind his abrupt decision just yet, even to his close friend._

_Steven fell silent. Wallace could feel his friend's eyes studying him quietly. When several seconds passed and Steven still had not spoken, Wallace stopped and turned to him. "Listen...I sincerely apologize for thrusting this burden so unjustly at you, my friend. Please do not feel pressured into taking this. I did not mean to come off as if you had no choice. I—"_

"_Wallace," Steven cut in gently. He gave Wallace an understanding smile and shook his head, making the short, neat strands of silver hair swish softly along his face. "There is no need to apologize. If anything, it is I that must apologize. I'm honored that you thought me worthy to replace you. I am just in shock, I think. Forgive me for coming off as ungrateful."_

_Wallace couldn't hide the relief he felt. Already, his shoulders felt lighter now that the weight of the cape—with its prestige and responsibilities--had been lifted from them. He was also relieved that Steven did not push for any more of an explanation other than the one Wallace had given._

"_Good," Wallace went on and continued walking towards the Hall of Fame. "I would accept no one __**but**__ you."_

_They passed under the threshold of the massive, sacred Hall of Fame. All of their talk in there was the official, ceremonial mumbo jumbo that came with one Champion passing the role unto his or her successor. When they were finished, Steven looked both pleased and unbelieving that his name and that of his Pokemon were among the company of so many illustrious Champions of the past. Wallace grinned and beckoned for the new Champion to follow him back outside now that the task was complete._

"_Come with me," Wallace requested._

_The other man nodded and hurried to catch up. As the door slid shut behind them, Steven sidled up to him and looked at him curiously. "Now where are we going?"_

_Wallace gave him an affectionate grin and made an elegant bow at the waist, "To celebrate, of course. Let me have the honor of being the first to officially congratulate you with lunch, __**Champion**__ Steven Stone."_

_He laughed when the title flustered another grin out of Steven. Then Steven shook his head and huffed good-naturedly, "Oh come now. You can't tease me when I am helping you."_

_Wallace raised an eyebrow at his friend, not missing the impish note that had entered Steven's tone. "Helping me? How so?"_

_Steven just gave him that knowing little smirk again and shook his head. "Nevermind. You were saying something about lunch?"_

The rest of the memory faded into a bright pink haze. Instinctively, Wallace knew it was the sunlight bathing his face in its warmth. As he slowly clambered his way back to the world of the living, he found that he was still smiling from the dream. When he opened his eyes, his senses were greeted by the sight of his ceiling, the smell of the sea, and the sound of Wingulls and Pelipeppers squawking at each other outside.

_It figures._ Wallace thought, returning his eyes to the last picture he'd been looking at before he'd succumbed to sleep, at his lover's smiling face. Then his eyes drifted to his phone, which had not rung in the middle of the night. _Where are you, my love?_

* * *

Across the world, in the darkness created by a canopy of thick foliage and tangled branches, Steven let out a shuddering breath and told his grim rescuer to wait. She stopped their already slow progress and replied with a stressed, terse, "What is it?"

Steven would have answered had he not, at last, lost his struggle to stay awake. Feeling dizzy, his head pounding, and exhausted, the world drifted away from Steven once more.

A/N: For those of you who have not read the Pokemon Special Manga and are a bit lost on the whole thing with Wallace, Winona, and his renouncing of the Champion title, I recommend you go to Bulbepedia and look up Wallace. There is a lovely bio on him (as well as Steven) that elaborates on this bit of canon.


	5. Unable to Connect

_**Tracing Origins**_

A/N: Hey everyone! As usual, thank you for all the wonderful positive feedback. I apologize for how long this one took. My week has been insane.

Anonymous, you made some damn good catches! About the Johto thing, it was a typo on my part. When I went back to see what you were referring to, I realized that I only wrote 'Johto' when I meant that Kendall had participated in a junior league held exclusively in the Johto region that he placed fourth in. I will go back and change that immediately.

As for the ranking system of the Silver Conference, I am mixing anime canon with something of my own concoction. It is the only way I could rationalize how anyone could be considered 'worthy' to challenge a region's Elite Four and Champion (since the anime never acknowledges this at all). Of course, you have to be among the top three to be considered ready to challenge them, but I think that the Pokemon Association would also rank the other participants of the various Leagues (even the losing ones) in order to keep a record on each person for the reason that they might one day challenge the Elite Four. So in a way, it's an unofficial ranking but a way for the Association to give trainers something to strive for: to work their way up to face the best of the best.

Haha, I know that barely clears it up so sorry if I've just made it MORE confusing. Thanks again for the sharp eye. Without further adieu, here is chapter four of Tracing Origins...

**Chapter Four: Unable to Connect**

"Sir? All preparations are complete. We are ready to start whenever you give the signal."

Mr. Stone nodded and thanked the young man before he turned his back towards the cavern entrance. This dig was slated to be an exciting and potentially important because of the area's age and reputation. Before now, the world had paid little attention to the rocky, rough terrain of this place, content to ignore it and what little it could offer.

One of the local factories might have turned it into a dumping ground had Mr. Stone's son not intervened a few months back. It had not particularly surprised him when he had gotten a call from Steven with the request that they take possession of the centuries old dustbowl, in order to protect it. It was, Steven had argued, not only a wild habitat for many of Rock and Ground-type Pokemon but littered with caverns and nooks that could contain precious materials not yet discovered.

As both a geology enthusiast and Pokemon-lover, it had not taken much to sway Mr. Stone. Still, he had asked Steven to present a much more solid reason as to _why_ they should even consider taking up the deed for what was, as others so aptly called it, a wasteland. They were, despite their family's generous contributions to the general public, still a business.

Naturally, his son's eyes, bright even through the video-phone monitor, had become steely with determination, and it was a few days before Mr. Stone heard from him again. This time, however, Steven had shown up in person at Devon Corp, having flown in on his Metagross all the way from the Johto Region. Mr. Stone had just finished a meeting and had been relaxing in his office.

When his secretary had buzzed him via intercom to inform him that his son was there, Mr. Stone—in his moment of surprise—only noted with mild curiosity at the amusement in her voice. When Steven had stridden in, however, Mr. Stone understood the hint of contained laugh in her voice the moment he saw his only son and heir.

Steven, dressed in his impeccable black and purple suit, was dusty from head to toe. It didn't take a genius to see that he had been on a dig, probably somewhere with a lot of sand and grit from the looks of him. That certainly would account for where the hulking chunk of rock that he laid down with a dull _thunk_ on Mr. Stone's desk had come from.

Mr. Stone, shocked, could only gape at his son and at the glimmering rock. He could still picture the little grin Steven had given him when he had said (in a voice that _knew_ he'd won), _"This, Father, is a rock that must contain at least a dozen fire stones. And this is just a small one that I found. It is from a cave in that place I spoke to you about." The smirk deepened triumphantly at Mr. Stone's impressed expression. "Think it's worth taking a look__** now**__?"_

The sound of laughter coming from the other men abruptly brought Mr. Stone back from his reverie. His eyes fell on the other three that had agreed to accompany him and Steven on this trip, all of them good friends and colleagues that shared a similar passion for geology. They had shown patience so far. However, Mr. Stone knew that if Steven didn't show up soon, they'd have to start the exploration without him.

_What's taking him? It's not like Steven to be this late._ Mr. Stone thought with another glance at his wrist watch. It was rare that his son kept him waiting when they made plans to go on a dig. If anything, it was normally Steven who scolded _him_ about punctuality whenever Mr. Stone was late to their rendezvous.

Frowning, Mr. Stone pressed the button on his phone that was specifically set to dial his son's number. His paternal instincts were beginning to prickle in a mild state of alarm, but he refused to explore that line of thought. Not yet, anyway.

A shrill ringing filled his ear. Then—to his surprise—it was followed immediately by the cool monotone of a recording that claimed his son wasn't connected to any network and that he ought to try back later. Mr. Stone pulled the phone away from his face and blinked at it. Where would Steven be that he wouldn't be able to receive phone calls?

_His home them._ Steven normally stopped off before going off on excavations to drop some things off, including most of his Pokemon. He claimed that they deserved to rest once in a while since his trips were long, hard, and exhausting. So whenever a large excavation was underway, he left most of his team at home, taking only one or two along as a precaution.

Mr. Stone dialed his son's home and waited patiently to hear Steven's voice. It was a good thought but one that proved fruitless as well. Mr. Stone's worry mounted as he hung up on the answering machine message that had begun to play. He didn't like this.

Steven was independent and free-spirited in his own oddball way. It was not unusual for him to take periods just to go adventuring, sometimes for months. However, he always had the courtesy to let someone know that he was doing so, just to avoid worrying anyone. He was especially good about letting his father know when he was unable to attend their digs, something they both took seriously.

_It could be nothing. Don't panic yet._ Mr. Stone grimly told himself, keeping the sinking feeling in his stomach at bay. He looked down at his phone and began dialing again. Steven might have simply forgotten to get in touch with him. However, there was one person he was sure his son would have contacted (if he wasn't _with _him) if something had come up. _Or so I hope.

* * *

_

"Watch it! Coming through!" Kendall called out relentlessly as he tore down the halls, past various cubicles and colleagues who looked up in surprise at him as he whizzed by. Seagram even began barking to get people to move out of their way. They were in a frantic search for their superior.

"Sonuva…_why doesn't he appear out of nowhere when we need him to??_" grumbled Kendall as he and Seagram slid around the corner, nearly bowling over another of their colleagues. The startled woman cried out and threw up her arms, sending the pile that she'd been hauling into a cascade of loose-leaf white sheets of paper. Kendall could only spare her a terse, apologetic look over his shoulder as he and Seagram rushed on. "Uh! Sorry Hannity!"

Her angry cursing followed him down the hall. Kendall winced regretfully. There went the tiny sliver of hope about the hottie in Research and Development.

"Grow-_lithe_," Seagram sharply growled for him to _focus!_

Kendall shook his head, pushing his troubles aside. "Right! Sorry."

They raced down the corridor that was lined with doors, each leading to the various wings of Head Quarters. Kendall looked into the open doors that they passed, but he did not see the man that they sought in any of them. Not that he was surprised. In any busy day (like that one), there was only one place that he expected to find the man.

Sure enough, as he and Seagram neared the epicenter of their facility, the unmistakable figure of Nate Thorne appeared on the other side of the large glass doors leading into the control center of Head Quarters. This spurred them to hurry, nearly smacking into the automatic sliding doors in the process. Thorne hadn't noticed them yet, for he was intently explaining something to two of their data analysts.

When he did notice, Thorne abruptly cut off from whatever he had been saying and cast a cool gaze on Kendall and Seagram. Kendall fought an instinctive urge to turn and run away. Thorne was a big man at 6'0" and a body builder's frame, which he stuffed into cheesy, uncomfortable navy or black suits and ties. He was rugged and gruff on the eyes, but his appearance masked the sharp intellect that had saved their organization countless times.

"Sir!" Kendall blurted out without preamble, waving the printout he'd brought in front of his face. "We have a situation."

The two data analysts were startled by Kendall's sudden intrusion. They looked back at him with equally surprised and annoyed expressions, but Kendall didn't have time for them. His eyes were for Thorne alone.

"What is it?" Thorne crisply asked, snatching the paper from his hands.

Kendall swallowed thickly. "We have a Code Seventeen, Sir."

Thorne's thick, dark eyebrows furrowed. He nodded a sharp dismissal to the two analysts and drew Kendall to his side. Then his eyes went to the printout, and his face became even grimmer when he took in the words printed on the page. His gaze snapped up to Kendall. "When did this come in?"

"About an hour ago. We waited to see if it was just a malfunction, but the signal never returned so…"

Thorne nodded tersely, and Kendall could almost hear the gears cranking in his head. When he spoke again, he sounded dead serious, "We need to send someone to confirm this. Come with me. The Director must be informed if this mission has been compromised."

"Right," Kendall said. He and Seagram fell into step beside Thorne, who purposefully marched down the halls with out the need to tell anyone to stand aside. Kendall mulled over the distressing discovery that he and Seagram had made for a moment. Then, he asked, "Sir…should we contact, you know, _him?_"

Thorne gave him a Look that would have withered a flower and clearly suggested that Kendall might be crazy. However, he merely answered, "No. Not yet. He'll know if something's wrong when we know."

* * *

Wallace started his morning with a trip to the Cave of Origins. As the Guardian of the sacred site, it was his duty to protect and honor what was said to have been the birthplace of life itself. He had not understood the importance of his role as a child. However, as the years passed and Wallace saw more of the world, his eyes were slowly opened as to why his people held a _cave_ in such reverence. It wasn't the cave, he'd come to realize at one point, that his people revered…but the precious miracle that was life, which was what the Cave of Origins symbolized. 

Juan met up with him on his way to the shrine. Together, the two Water-Masters made their way down Sootopolis City's quiet streets, down the stairs that connected the higher levels of the city to the lower ones, and onto the loamy earth that covered the entrance leading into the cavern. Of course they did not pass the threshold of the cavern entrance, for it was a sacred law that allowed no citizen of Sootopolis City to set foot inside the cave's boundaries.

Instead, Wallace and Juan stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the shrine that had been set up for those who wished to pay homage to the cave. They lit sticks of incense and planted them into the small black pot filled with sand (gathered from Sootopolis' own beach) and clasped their hands into quiet prayer. The crisp, refreshing morning air around them was warmed by the tendrils of smoke and took on a pleasant, spice-like smell.

When their blessings were concluded, Juan was the first to speak. "Are you rested, my old pupil?"

Wallace hesitantly nodded, the dream once more on his mind. "Yes. I slept…well, satisfactorily, I suppose. It was…it was unusual to be sleeping in my own bed instead of in my apartment in Ever Grande City."

Juan didn't seem to mind the sorry excuse for a reason. He merely nodded, smiling onto the peaceful sight of Sootopolis City as it slowly awoke to the sun's prompting. "Ah…that is understandable. There are few places like this one. And even _if_ it were possible to see a more beautiful place, there surely would be a lacking of the strange magic our Sootopolis possesses!"

The pride in Juan's voice of their beloved city made Wallace grin. He shared his teacher's feelings. Wallace was certain that no matter how far he traveled, that no matter how many enchanting places he saw, no place would ever be able to hold his heart the way Sootopolis City did.

"So what is the plan for today, Master?" Wallace asked, adding with a chuckle, "I am yours to command."

Juan opened his mouth to reply but stopped when something past Wallace's shoulder caught his eye. Curious, Wallace craned his head around to see what it was. A young man garbed in swimming trunks, a tank top, and sandals was descending the stairs, his purpose clearly being to reach _them_. Wallace recognized him to be one of Juan's current pupils.

"Master Juan. Master Wallace," He greeted with a carefully practiced bow.

"Hello Triton," Wallace returned politely. Triton's head snapped up in surprise. He looked surprised, then very, very pleased. It was, in all likelihood, probably because Wallace had actually remembered his name. It never ceased to amaze Wallace how many of Juan's current apprentices reacted in such a pleased or overjoyed way when they realized that he recognized them.

"What is it, young Triton?" Juan inquired.

Triton looked at him. "Master, a challenger has come seeking a battle with you."

"Ah! An early bird!" Juan beamed. Battles were his favorite way to warm his Pokemon up for the rest of the day. He threw his head back, hand planted on one hip, chin tilted upward dramatically. "Very well. I shall return immediately. Tell the others to begin. If this challenger has any promise to back his bravado, I shall expect him past our ice puzzle and waiting!"

"Yes Sir!" Triton agreed enthusiastically. He gave them another bow and scampered off.

Juan fondly watched his student go. Then he turned to Wallace. "Will you be joining us, Wallace?"

"I would enjoy watching," Wallace admitted. "I am curious to see how far along your new apprentices have come."

Juan's large grin took on that proud gleam again. "I think you will be impressed. I admit, though, I pity this challenger. He or she has come at a most unfortunate time."

Wallace cocked his head at him curiously. "What do you mean, Master?"

At this, Juan gave him an incredibly amused look. "Wallace…the Hoenn region _Champion_ is here. How would _you_ battle if you knew that the top trainer of the region was watching _you_?"

Wallace was reminded again of his elevated status among the students and blushed sheepishly. "Ah, I see your point."

"Come along," Juan chuckled, turning towards the stairs.

The sounds of a battle could be heard all the way from outside of the Gym. Juan and Wallace thanked the water ferryman that conveyed them to the Gym's island before dismounting. Juan listened to the clashing sounds that emanated from inside the Gym's walls for a second. Then he nodded approvingly and said, "From the sounds of it, this one has spirit."

Wallace noted an added pep to his Master's step as the man gracefully swept through the doors. Immediately, they were met by the noise of a fierce battle that was being waged in the lower portion of the Gym. Through a jagged hole in the iced flooring—probably where the challenger had fallen through—Wallace caught a glimpse of a Bellosum duking it out with a Clamperl.

It didn't take long for their arrival to be noticed. "Oh! Master Juan! Master Wallace! Good morning!"

A junior trainer that was participating in the Gym Battle left her spot along the railing to greet them. She and several others were watching the battle from the ground floor on the ice's edge. Juan and Wallace met her half way, and Juan immediately launched into business, "How is it looking so far, Dana?"

"Not bad, actually! He…" Dana trailed off momentarily as the challenger—who Wallace could now identify as a mousy-haired boy in red and orange—effectively defeated the Clamperl. Dana blinked down into the scene, impressed, and then went on cheerfully, "He is a Grass-type trainer from the looks of it. He had a Tangela that walked in with him. Plus, we saw him fly in on a Tropius."

Instead of anxiety one might expect to see from a Water-type user after learning such a thing, there was _excitement_ on Juan's face. He clapped his hands together. "Delightful! Too long has it been since we have faced a worthy adversary!"

Dana, though obviously used to Juan's ways, hid her amusement behind a dubious look. "I don't know, Master. He seems pretty tough."

Juan gave her a hundred-watt smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Student of mine, challenge is the spice of life! Ah! It looks as if our worthy opponent has defeated Jetsom! Splendid! Pardon me, young Dana. I must go to my post and see if this young man truly is worthy of the Rain Badge."

Wallace bowed his head to Juan. "I too must be excused for a moment, Master. I need to make a phone call."

"Very well," Juan replied and turned to walk towards the place in where he would meet the challenger should the boy manage to reach him. Dana and the other trainers eagerly followed him away.

Wallace smiled, seeing that some things never changed and that included Juan's charismatic personality. He turned and made his way to a doorway that would lead into the back rooms of the Gym. This Gym was his second home. From the many years that he had trained and fought here, he had come to know it like the back of his hand. So it did not take long for him to slip down the hallway and into the break room that the junior trainers used when Juan gave them a recess.

He discovered it already occupied. The frizzy-haired girl that he'd met the day before sat at the table consuming a huge heap of fruits, yogurt, and granola. Her eyes were glued to the television as she expertly navigated through channels all the while feeding herself with her other hand. Wallace caught blurbs of programs on each station as she continually changed channels.

"—_best Vitamins on the market! You will be amazed after you see the different in your Pokemon's dexterity and stamina after feeding it just ONE of our special—"_

_A crowd was booing. A disgruntled looking woman leapt up from her seat on the stage, "Oh shut up! SHUT UP! You all don't know me! You don't KNOW ME!! Shut the—"_

"_Know what we're doing today, Mr. Sparks??" A Pikachu shook its head, feigning confusion. "Well…today we're going to play The Poke Ball Wheel Game! Let's—"_

"— _members of the Pokemon G-Men raided and arrested what is believed to be the top three men of the infamous Darkman Gang. They are a notorious gang of thieves that specialize in Dark-type Pokemon and have been suspected to have been responsible for the fire in the Lavender City Pokemon Center two months ago. A spokesman for the Pokemon G-Men had this to say…"_

It took a second for Brenne to realize that she wasn't alone any longer. Her head jerked in his direction, and she leapt up in surprise. "Oh! Master Wallace! I didn't see you there!"

"Yes…good morning, Brenne," Wallace greeted uncertainly as his eyes roved over the cache of food. "What's this?"

Brenne blushed and shrugged. "Breakfast! Uh…" She pawed through the large bowl of fruit and presented a banana to him. "Would you like something?"

Wallace politely declined, "No thank you. I just need to make a phone call."

"Oh! I'll turn the television down then. Er…I'll just go…get more granola…" Brenne said awkwardly. Wallace appreciated her thoughtfulness in giving him some privacy.

As soon as she scampered out, he pulled out his and attempted to call Steven again. It had seriously started to worry him that he had not heard from his lover yet. It was just too out of character for the silver-haired man. Wallace did not like the thought that something could have happened to him, but he was unable to shake the strange sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Again, he was met with the same message stating that Steven was not connected to any network. Wallace tried Steven's home, but it too was of no avail. He even called Devon Corp. to see if Steven had perhaps stopped by in the past twenty-four hours. Mr. Stone's secretary politely told him that Steven hadn't been there for weeks and that he ought to be on a dig in Johto with his father.

_Yes._ Wallace thought as he stared down at his phone. _But I would know by now._

His fine brows knit together in concern as the thought he'd been staunchly keeping at bay made itself fully known. _Steven…did something happen to you?_

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the screen on the phone lit up, and the phone began to ring. It surprised him to see who it was—according to his Caller ID—that was calling. His heart still pounding, Wallace hit the answer button and brought the phone to his face. "Hello?"

"Wallace. Hello, it's Sedgewick."

"Yes, I know. Is everything okay, Mr. Stone?" Wallace really wanted to demand immediately if Steven had arrived safely, but it would be impolite. There was a worried overtone in Mr. Stone's voice that Wallace hoped he was imagining.

"I hope so. I was wondering if Steven was with you. He has not shown up for our dig, and I can't get a hold of him."

Wallace's mouth went dry. The knot in his stomach twisted even more tightly, making him feel sick. "...He's not here, Mr. Stone. He left days ago for the dig, and I haven't heard from him. I…I thought he'd be with _you_."


	6. The Deepening Plot

_**Tracing Origins**_

A/N: I believe I owe everyone an apology for keeping you waiting for so long. I have just started a new job that takes a lot of time and energy. Thanks, as always, for the kind words and encouragement to continue. I didn't want to write any half-assed chapters since I'm a firm believer over quality over quantity. Hopefully, the longer chapter will make up for the wait. Enjoy!

**Chapter Five: The Deepening Plot**

Chateau d' Cateline was a privately owned villa set in the heart of a lush northern Kanto mountain valley. It was owned by a prominent family, passed down from fathers to sons and mothers to daughters for generations. This had been true for centuries, and as things were, there were no immediate plans to deviate from tradition. As it stood now, the family's founder and namesake Lady Cateline of Florencia would have been proud to see what her heir had turned their humble family fortune into.

_But of the means, Lady Cateline?_ Giovanni thought whimsically as he gazed upon the portrait of his ancestor. The painting overhung the grand staircase that led up to the balcony overlooking his vineyard. It portrayed a portly woman garbed in a magenta Victorian-styled dress of ruffles and lace. She had been young at the painting's advent, but the stern expression that was portrayed had frozen in time a paragon of rigid, cold dignity that became what was expected of her heirs.

"Did you know," Giovanni mused softly to his companion, gently swirling the warm, aromatic coffee in the mug captured between his fingers, "that my great ancestor—Lady Cateline's husband—was a _police officer_?"

"Purrr?" Persian hummed dubiously, cocking his head to regard Giovanni.

"It's true," Giovanni went on with some amusement himself. "He was Monsieur Francois de Béhaine. He was a constable in his home town. Lady Cateline and he met by chance when she passed through his town on a trip. As the story goes, they were well suited from the moment their eyes met. Both academics and lovers of poetry. Oh, and strong believers in the legal system. Imagine that. Such a waste."

"Purrr-sian," the beige cat-like Pokemon snorted and began licking at a paw.

Giovanni smirked and absently ran his fingers through the coarse fur on Perisan's head with his free hand as his eyes drifted past Lady Cateline's portrait and to the massive window. It overlooked the vast acres of land that the estate rested upon. The sun was rising, so the sky was awash in soft hues of pale blue and gold as night retreated behind the hills. If that was not enough to signify the coming of morning, the throaty crowing of a wild Combusken somewhere outside did the trick.

"Come along, Persian. We…" Giovanni trailed off, his eyes narrowing in annoyance when he heard the soft but unmistakable sound of feet shuffling against the carpet behind them. Without turning, he demanded sharply, "What is it?"

Sandford, the estate's head butler and main caretaker while Giovanni was not present, was well-versed in averting his eyes whenever in the Master's presence. He bowed his head, his voice low and submissive as he reported, "Forgive me, Master Giovanni. You have a phone call."

This made Giovanni turn a fraction, a skeptical frown tightening his cold features. "A call? At this hour? Who is it?"

The butler answered meekly, "It is Lady Eloise, Sir."

The face reflecting back on Giovanni from the window hardened. His lips pressed themselves into a thin, displeased line. His subordinates knew better than to disturb his leisure time, and they rarely did so since the consequences were not great. Unless…it was an emergency, that is.

"Take this," Giovanni curtly said, shoving the mug into Sandford's hands. Without waiting for a reply, he pivoted on his heels and climbed the stairs to his right, heading towards his private study.

He let Persian in after him and made sure to hear the click of the heavy polished mahogany door closing before striding up to his desk. Being wealthy and the head of a crime syndicate had its perks, one of them being easy access to the latest technology (the means of acquiring said technology another story). As soon as Giovanni was within a few steps from his desk, the sensors of his video-phone flickered and the screen came to life with a small icon of a phone, signifying an incoming call on hold.

"On screen," He intoned in his deep voice, sinking into the plush leather chair behind his desk.

Unlike other, cheaper, video-phones, this one did not merely display the face of the other speaker. Instead, the screen glowed a soft blue for a second and then thousands of small beams shot outward, merging together into a perfect holographic representation of a beautiful violet-eyed, violet-haired woman.

"Eloise," Giovanni acknowledged, tone low and forcibly steady.

There might have been a flicker of fear at his tone, but Giovanni had to admit that Eloise hid it well. She was not like most of his peons. Then again, most of his grunts were not eloquent, well-spoken women like this unique number staring back at him with equal parts of composure and confidence. He had always found her cool intelligence and icy demeanor fascinating but dangerous.

"Sir Giovanni. Pardon the interruption, but," Eloise' smooth brows furrowed, "there has been an incident at the Valte facility."

Giovanni's eyes drilled into her image as he crisply ordered, "Tell me."

Eloise complied. By the time she was finished, Gionvanni's light-hearted mood had soured considerably. His fist slammed down on the desk, sending a pen skittering off the edge. Persian darted away to avoid the falling projectile, mewling protest.

"Intruders? _How did this happen!?_" the Team Rocket boss roared.

"We're not sure, Sir. One was posing as one of our members. We're not sure when she slipped in. But the other one is the one you might find interesting." Eloise did her usual, annoying bit of pausing, as if to add to the dramatic effect to whatever it was that she'd say next. She smirked, her strange amethyst colored eyes glowing with glee, "It is Steven Stone, the heir of Devon Corp."

This was enough to stun Giovanni out of his bad mood. Almost. "You're certain?"

"Positive," she replied without any doubt.

Gionvanni's mind quickly calculated all the avenues that he could take with the fortune that fate had just deposited into his hands. How delightfully unexpected. While it was true that he had not dabbled much in Hoenn, he had kept careful tabs on important events and people in the region lest there come a day when he decided to expand the Team Rocket empire past Kanto's borders. Among this prominent list was the influential Stone family of Devon Corp.

A smile slowly lit Giovanni's face. "Very interesting, indeed."

"I knew you'd think so, Sir," purred Eloise, smiling. She went on, "Course of action?"

There was only one Giovanni could think of. "Capture him. We certainly cannot have such an esteemed guest roaming the island unattended, now can we?"

"His father will be most appreciative when he hears of our hospitality, I'm sure," she smoothly replied, then sobered. "And the other one?"

"Find out what she knows and dispose of her. I will bet anything that she is one of those troublesome meddlers. It is time we send them a message about what happens when you mess in Team Rocket affairs," Giovanni said, his voice brittle with contempt.

Eloise nodded her head sharply, "As you wish, Sir Giovanni."

The sound of someone clearing their throat made her turn her head to look at something Giovanni could not see. Eloise turned away for a moment and then, much to Giovanni's surprise, her image was replaced by that of a thin, reedy man that also worked for him. Giovanni's eyebrow quirked upward inquisitively.

"Good morning, Sir Giovanni. Forgive me for intruding, but I have a simple request that you may find...beneficial for the progression of Project Invincible."

Giovanni laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the surface of his desk, eyes boring into those of the brilliant man now speaking to him. "Go on. I'm listening."

* * *

The gears in Thorne's head were already turning as he launched himself up the next flight of stairs, taking them two or three at a time in his bid to get to the Director's office. If the mission on Valte Island had been compromised, then that would mean that their agent was either dead or captured, neither of which was acceptable. He hoped that it was not the case; he'd already ordered for agents to focus their efforts on getting any sort of visuals on the island so that they may find the status of their agent.

Behind him, he heard the disgraceful panting and gasping for air of the junior agent that had brought the distressing discovery to Thorne's attention. The young man had made a good catch, but if his wheezing was any indication, the lad could certainly use more time in the gym. His Growlithe was in fine form, but the agent was in pitiful shape.

"Sir…no…disrespect…but…why…why," Kendall gasped, stumbling blindly after Thorne, "_why are we taking the stairs_??"

"Too many people using the elevators," Thorne crisply replied as he took the next flight. He worked out for two solid hours every single day so this was nothing to him. Hearing Kendall, a fully trained agent barely into his twenties, huffing and heaving like a Wheezing reinforced his firm belief that they did not have a strenuous enough physical fitness requirement that befitted their line of work. He would have to talk to the Director about the matter the next time that he had a chance.

"Sir," Kendall asked in a strained, breathless voice. "What…what does this…mean? Is this…is this…the same mission involving that…that lab outside of Johto?"

"Yes," Thorne grimly confirmed. "Unfortunately."

The Director's office sat at the opposite end of the hallway that they emerged from. Few people ventured up this far, and when most did it was upon the request of the Director…normally not a good thing. Thorne grimaced. _Like coming to him with bad news is better._

Julia, the Director's secretary, glanced up in surprise when she heard the sound of the glass doors swishing open to allow Thorne and Kendall access. Thorne wasted no breath on greetings, "Julia, is he in? We must speak to him. Now."

"Yes, but—"

That was all Thorne needed to hear. He was moving towards the door before Julia could even finish speaking. As Kendall stammered apologies and Julia railed that they couldn't just barge in, Thorne was mentally preparing himself for this meeting, ignoring them both. His mind was already thinking ahead, trying to lay out their options since months of work to take down a treacherous operation was now in jeopardy.

"Seraph, we have a problem," Thorne announced without preamble even as he threw open the door and strode in.

Julia squeezed in after him along side Kendall, looking very annoyed, "I'm sorry, Sir. They," she glared at Thorne icily, "insisted on seeing you."

"It's all right, Julia. They can stay," said the man identified as Seraph, holding up a hand to wave them in. He was a dark-haired man with coal dark eyes and the build of any business man though mere 'business' was definitely not his job. He was sitting behind his desk flipping through a book of some sort, which he quickly flipped shut and tucked away before they could get close enough to see what it was. It was just one of the many secrets that the man held, hidden behind his pleasant demeanor and disarming smile.

Even Thorne, who'd been Seraph's loyal right hand for years, could not read the handsome, impeccably groomed man the way he could others. Despite Seraph's shady nature, the man had been their leader in the war on crime and evil, and there was no one more qualified to fill the role. Seraph had the loyalty of their entire organization as well as that of those who looked to them to bring justice for a reason.

The moment Julia slipped out, Seraph's intensely dark gaze flickered between the two agents, "Gentlemen?"

Thorne wasted no more time. He walked up to Seraph's massive glass-top desk and held out the printout Kendall had brought him. "Seraph, we lost contact with Agent Natios an hour ago and have not been able to reestablish contact."

Seraph frowned, taking the paper, his keen eyes scanning the words as Thorne went on grimly, "The mission might have been compromised."

"You've ordered for someone to find out if our agent is alive?" Seraph asked.

Thorne nodded, "Yes, Sir."

"So," Kendall bravely spoke up, looking between Thorne and Seraph. "What can we do? Can't we send back up or something? We can't just let one of our own stay in a place full of _Rockets!_"

Seraph looked at him seriously, "You're right about that. But as of right now, we are not even sure if Agent Natios is alive. You are positive that there was no transmission before the signal was lost? Audio? Pictures? Anything?"

"I—I—" Kendall stuttered, shaking his head incredulously.

Thorne was disgusted with how undisciplined these younger agents were. Had the little fool even thought to check before he came running up to Thorne? Before he could demand as much, Seraph's calm yet authoritative voice continued, "Also, it will be helpful to know Agent Natio's movements before we lost the signal."

When Kendall didn't appear to comprehend exactly what was being said, Thorne cut in gruffly, "Well? Go check! Hurry! Every second you're standing here might mean a second Agent Natios doesn't have! Go!"

He was gratified to see the junior agent scramble off in much faster time than it had taken him to get up the stairs, the poor Growlithe right on his heels. Thorne looked at Seraph, who looked back at him with a very grave expression. "The moment Giovanni hears of this, he will undoubtedly begin to relocate his operations."

Thorne sighed. They'd lost the most important advantage that they'd had in their arsenal: surprise.

* * *

"_Move it_—_Fuck!"_

The wall of trees behind them exploded. Steven felt a searing wave of heat before he was thrown forward, his feet flying out from underneath him. He landed face down on the hard earth. Small rocks and leaves dug into his cheek. A guttural cry of pain involuntarily bubbled from his lips as a fresh explosion of pain radiated from the gaping side wound.

He was only vaguely aware through the mind-numbing pain of the woman's cursing as she scrambled to her feet beside him. She was suddenly pressed against his uninjured side, forcing him to _his_ feet with an arm that snaked around his waist to latch onto his belt, thankfully avoiding the injury as she hauled him up. Steven sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut against the radiating agony that sent the world reeling away from him.

"Gengar! Hypnosis!" She snarled over her shoulder.

Steven struggled to lift his head, to blink the tears of pain that blurred his already wavering vision. They were running. Well, actually _she_ was running, and he was stumbling along, moving only as fast as his body awkwardly allowed and because of her urgency and strength.

He heard the lilting, hypnotic sound of Gengar's voice as it coaxed their pursuers into slumber. The sound made him drowsy, and combined with his already weakened state, Steven could feel his eyelids begin to grow heavy. Once more, he was shaken, and her low voice besieged his ear, "Not now! Come on! _Keep running_."

"Arrrr-on!"

The sharp sound of Aron's voice ahead of them made Steven's head jerk upward. The steel-type had run ahead of them, clearing the path of obstructions as best as he could. He stood on the slope a small hill that their path was leading to, anxiously waiting for them to catch up. Behind them, Steven could hear the increasing shouts of their pursuers as well as the unmistakable sounds of battle.

"They just keep coming," the woman breathed incredulously and then shouted, "GENGAR!"

A heartbeat later Gengar was right behind them, leaping in giant, easy strides to keep up. Steven caught a brief glimpse of its face. It was disquieting to see the normally mischievous expression on the ghost-type's face as sober and tense as it was.

"Gen gen, gengar," Gengar muttered to its trainer.

Whatever it said couldn't have been good considering how it made her jaw clench and already stressed face grow even more stressed. She let out a gusty sigh, "Perfect."

"Ar-ron!"

Up ahead, Aron had found something among one of the many bushes that seemed to dot the forest. He made urgent, excited keening noises, wanting for them to hurry. It took Steven a moment to realize what Aron was saying.

"Aron says that he's found something. A path in the bushes," He reported, his voice coming out more a soft croak than anything else.

"At this point, I'll take what I can get," quipped the woman wryly. She glanced briefly at Gengar. "We need a distraction. Keep them off of us for just a few minutes and then meet up with us."

"Gen-gar," the ghost-type obediently answered and faded out of existence. A second later, there came a chorus of shouts behind them, followed by sounds of frantic chaos.

Steven grimaced as they hobbled forward. Aron motioned towards the bush with his head. The woman reached out with her free hand and parted some of the branches, revealing a well-concealed path leading away from the main one that they traveled. It dipped downward into another, lower level of the forest. Thickets of trees and wild shrubbery doused the path in shadow.

Without thinking twice, they dove onto the path. Aron scuttled in after them, and grabbed some branches with his mouth to conceal their newly found hiding spot once more. No sooner had he done so did they hear the booted feet of several Rockets trotting into the place that they'd just been.

"What the—they just ran this WAY!" one frustrated Rocket howled.

"Come on! They've got to be around here somewhere. Man, when I get my hands on that little bitch…" growled a second grunt before the two ran on.

"Gengar."

Steven and the woman jumped and whirled in their hiding spot to find Gengar gently landing on the leafy floor. It looked like it had been through a rough battle, even for a ghost. It looked them over and nodded its head resolutely, "Gen-gar. Gen gar."

The arm around Steven's waist relaxed a bit, and she let out a breath, "Good job. That will buy us a few minutes at the most. I still think our best bet is to get to the harbor, but I'm certain that they'll be expecting us. So it's going to be tough. Maybe if we could just…."

Steven sighed and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself together for just a bit longer. The pain had subsided once more into a dull, continuous ache that, while uncomfortable, was tolerable. However, he felt drained…stretched thin. All he wanted was to find a place to curl up and sleep until the gritty, heavy feeling left his body and the pulsating thrumming stopped assailing his temples.

A gentle shake made him open his eyes. He groggily lifted his head to find her looking at him, deep concern in her green eyes. When had she placed him down?

"Hey," she said softly. "You okay? Let me take a look real quick."

She reached for the rough, soaked makeshift bandage wrapped around his abdomen. Before her hands even made contact, Steven was instinctively flinching away. His soft gasp of distress made her freeze, hand extended mid-air. She frowned at him.

"Sorry," Steven said and let out a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. If she had wanted him dead, then this bizarre experience of running from the other Rockets through this god-forsaken island would not have even happened. And there was a kindness in her eyes that told him that she could be trusted if her actions did not say enough already.

She seemed to understand. With extreme care, she peeled back the bandage, and he sucked in a sharp breath as even the _air_ touching the wound seemed to make it burn and ache. After a quick inspection, she redressed the wound and then grimly looked at him.

"It's still bleeding. It…it probably isn't closing because of how much we're moving. Look," She was looking at him so seriously and entreatingly that Steven couldn't help but to stare back, even if he had begun to feel light-headed. "I need for you to hang on. Just for a bit longer. I need to get you somewhere dry and then I can treat it. Right now, it's not an option. Just try to hold on until we can find somewhere safe to hide out."

What option did he really have anyway? Steven just nodded, closing his eyes tightly and focusing on the act of just breathing. The simple, repetitive act was calming in its own way. After a moment, he reopened his eyes and found her pensively staring up, as if looking at the sky through the canopy of leaves.

"I wonder if we could…" She mused absently, her attention obviously elsewhere. Whatever she had been thinking was disturbed by a deep voice

"I know you're in there. You might as well as make this easy on yourself and come out. We have both sides cut off. There's no way out."

Steven felt his heart begin to race as his companion sprang to her feet. The bushes that hid their route parted and in came a short man garbed in a Team Rocket uniform that was different than the others. It was sleeker and more like a suit, clearly signifying some sort of elevated rank.

"Lieutenant Marsh," she hissed, eyes darting from the man to the other Rockets that squeezed their way in after him. Gengar sprang to her side, glaring down the Rockets, its body already tensed for combat.

Lieutenant Marsh was a dark-haired man with sharp features and beady eyes. He exuded coldness, a feeling of malice that made the hair on the back of Steven's neck stand on end. Steven remembered what he had seen in the lab and suppressed a shudder of revulsion. He'd seen with his own eyes what kind of cruelty that this small scarecrow like man was capable of.

"You," Marsh spoke, his hard eyes fixed on the woman, "have caused me a great deal of trouble."

She let out a harsh, sarcastic laugh, "I'm sorry."

"Where are the discs? Hand them over," demanded the Rocket Elite, his voice booming through the tension that racked their enclosure.

"Or?" She boldly demanded though Steven could see by the way she and Gengar were continually looking around that they were sizing up their odds. Odds that didn't look good, by the way.

Marsh sneered and wordlessly snapped his fingers. Just like that, the battle began.

"This'll shut her smug face up!" one grunt zealously hollered as he threw a Poke Ball. "Poochyena, GO!"

Beside him came another Poke Ball, "Magmar!"

"Save some for me! Wartortle, come out!" came a feminine voice.

Steven turned his head when he heard the crunching of leaves and Aron give a warning growl. Three other grunts were advancing, throwing their own Poke Balls into the fray. A Magneton appeared, followed seconds later by a Chimchar and a Golbat. They were cut off from both sides, and their enemies were closing in.

"Magmar! Flamethrower!"

Magmar darted forward and unleashed a stream of flames. They swirled in a brilliant miasma of red, gold, and orange, searing the air with heat as they melded into a powerful weapon heading straight for Gengar. Gengar expertly danced away from the flames, leaping side to side to avoid Magmar's attempt at correct his aim. The flames met empty ground, charring dirt into black spots of soot.

The Wartortle was quick to join the fight on its trainer's command. Gengar ducked in time to miss being nailed by a powerful jet stream of bubbles that whizzed past in rapid, glowing blue torrents. Gengar flitted around the clearing, avoiding flames and bubbles, its body becoming a deep purple blur that melded into the shadows cast by the trees as he ran circles around enemy Pokemon.

"Poochyena! Bite!"

The gray and black canine-like creature bounded after Gengar, chomping with its jaws determinedly. It almost caught Gengar at one point, but the ghost-type obviously had more experience on its side. It leapt straight up, somersaulted, and kicked itself off from the side of a tree. The momentum of the movement sent it hurtling like a rocket towards Magmar, who was trundling around trying to keep up with the speedy ghost-type. Gengar's foot smashed into the fire-type's chest, sending it careening wildly back.

Wartortle jumped over Magmar as it slid by in a billow of dust, small twigs, and leaves. The lavender-colored water-type pressed forward but was forced to skid to an abrupt halt in the Leering blood red eyes that had suddenly appeared in front of it. It was startled stupid for a moment, guard down, which was all Gengar needed.

"POOCHYYY!!" The Poochyena had doubled back and was running full speed in Gengar and Wartortle's direction, barking and snapping its jaws.

Steven was amazed to see Gengar _grin_ at Wartortle. Then he realized why as Gengar threw itself right into Wartortle…and went right through the bewildered water-type. The unfortunate Wartortle was, instead, met by a powerful set of black jaws belonging to the determined Poochyena, who was unable to stop in time.

"War! WAR WAR—TORT!" cried Wartortle in panic, flailing its arms, as Poochyena—as well as the Bite attack--barreled into it. Both of them went tumbling backwards, right through Gengar's ghostly form, and crashed into a nearby tree trunk.

"Gen-gar," Gengar rasped, but its minor victory was short-lived; Magmar had recovered, and it was _angry._ A massive stream of flames erupted from its mouth that Gengar narrowly avoided. Gengar turned and faced down the large, livid Magmar.

Steven's attention went to his own predicament at this point. Aron was having his own showdown with the Magneton, Chimchar, and Golbat. Taking a deep breath, Steven forced his limbs to cooperate. Using the tree nearby for support, Steven painstakingly pulled himself to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a moment but willed the weakness out of his body. Aron needed him.

"You might as well as give up," one Rocket suggested in a sickeningly condescending voice. "The Boss wants _you_ alive so why don't you make it easy on yourself?"

Steven's eyes narrowed at this. What did he mean by this 'Boss' wanting _him_? Whatever. Now wasn't the time to ponder such things. Steven squared his shoulders and pushed himself from the tree, his face hardening as he stood back to back with the woman. If Team Rocket wanted him, let's see if they could get him!

"Aron, _ROAR_!"


	7. Mystery

_**Tracing Origins**_

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I promise I haven't abandoned the story. It's just taking me longer to crank out chapters to what I consider acceptable standards because of how busy I've been. Thank you so much for the continued support and patience.

**Chapter Six: Mystery**

"Let me go! I didn't DO anything! Let me—oww, bitch!! Too tight!! Too tight!!"

Officer Jenny scowled and gave the squirming man's arm a rough squeeze. His head whipped around to fix her with a glare, which she repaid in kind with a stern look. She demanded his obedience and wasn't shy about getting physical to get it, "Either you stop resisting or I can get out the TASER. It's your choice."

"Do it and I'll sue the shit out of your department," the deviant snarled, jutting a defiant chin out in Jenny's face. Then the expression swiftly became a startled, fearful squeal when the audible crackle of electricity could be heard from behind them. Jenny smirked as the man became a quivering, cowering mess, babbling and pleading for Jenny not to use the hated TASER on him.

"Jollllttt…"

Jenny smiled down at the creature that had been the source of the sound, saying sweetly, "Now, now, Taser. Be nice."

The Jolteon looked from the suspect to her, giving her an expression that she had always assumed was a Jolteon's equivalent of a pout. Then the yellow, spiky-furred electric-type dutifully padded to her side, giving the suspect a final growl for good measure.

The Sheriff's Office of Atlantica Bay was a tiny building consisting of exactly four offices, one break room, three jail cells, two bathrooms, and one reception area. It employed the Sheriff, ten officers, two lieutenants, and one street supervisor: the town's resident Officer Jenny. Truth be told, there usually wasn't enough crime in the small seaside city to warrant hiring more officers. But on days like this one, Jenny was more than ready to lobby the Sheriff with demands of putting more officers on the streets.

Jenny handed off the suspect to another officer, her mind elsewhere as she thought about her agenda for the remainder of the day. It was about an hour into her and Taser's usual patrol route before her radio came to life.

"Tango-Seven-Ten from Juliet-Four-Oh-Six."

Work time. Jenny picked up the radio and keyed up the microphone, "Tango-Seven-Ten."

There was a burst of static before the male officer's voice returned, "Seven-Ten, can you meet with me at the beach along the boardwalk at Summer Street? There's a Signal Nineteen that you need to see."

Jenny and Taser exchanged a surprised look. Signal Nineteen was the code for anything pertaining to wildlife, something in which the street supervisor rarely had a personal hand in investigating. Her officers knew this so if they were calling for them, it had to be something unusual.

"Ten-four, Four-Oh-Six. We'll be right there."

Jolteon cocked his head at her inquisitively from the passenger cart, "Joll?"

Jenny tightened her grip on the handlebars of her motorcycle, increasing their speed with a guttural _VROOOM! _"Let's find out."

They were greeted by the tell tale red and blue flashing of lights of other police vehicles parked along the street that paralleled the beach. The moment Jenny and Taser pulled up, they found several officers crouched around something on the beach, right along the water's edge. Concerned, Jenny quickly climbed off of her bike and made her way across the sand and to her officers.

Lindon was the first to notice her, offering a little wave as she approached. Jenny nodded to him and then to the others as they looked up and met her eyes. She got down to business. "What have you got?"

"Well…this," Lindon answered, sweeping his hand in front of him. Jenny got closer and saw that they were looking at so intently. It was a dead creature. To be more precise, it was a dead creature that had washed up on shore with the other sea trash. Every so often they discovered beached Pokemon along their shores. But…there was something wrong here.

"What…what _is_ that?" Jenny gasped, looking at the mottled, decomposing flesh with wide eyes. She couldn't even tell what it was. A Pokemon?

Taser sniffed at the carcass and let out a displeased snort, backing up several steps with a cringe. Jenny looked at him, surprised, and then looked back at Lindon and the other officers. "Ward?"

Ward, the single officer of their department with a degree in Pokemon Physiology and Anatomy, frowned at her, his expression mildly puzzled. "It's a Flygon. I think."

"You _think_?"

"Well," Ward tried to explain, tentatively lifting what must have been part of a wing with his gloved hands, "the approximate size, weight, and anatomical make for an average male of the species up are right. Plus you see this joint where the wing connects to its shoulder? Flygon have a lot of body mass so their wings have to be able to compensate in order to lift them from the ground. This means that the joint is reinforced by more bone and tissue mass, making it strong enough to handle effort such as flight. Just like this."

Jenny absorbed Ward's long-winded explanation with thoughtful, furrowed brows. "But you're not sure?"

"At this stage of decomposition, it's hard to tell. I'd have to send a tissue sample to the lab to confirm it," replied the officer. Though he looked puzzled, it wasn't hard to see the barely hidden curiosity in the former scientist's eyes.

_Scientists_. Thought Jenny ruefully as she ran her gaze over the mysterious carcass again. "Any idea as to a cause of death?"

Lindon frowned at the waves that crashed around them, his quick mind deducing the same thing that Jenny was thinking. "Ward…Flygon aren't Water-types. How did this guy end up here?"

"From the air, maybe? We can't really be sure…" Ward shrugged and gently prodded along the carcass, rolling it over gently to inspect the Pokemon's other side. While he did so, Jenny began inspecting the stretch of beach that they were standing on. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to suggest that this had been a crime. However, years of police work had honed Jenny's instincts, and if they were telling her that something was amiss, she was inclined to believe them.

"Sarge," Ward said suddenly. He looked more perplexed and mildly disturbed. "There aren't any signs of trauma or any open wounds from what I can tell. But look at this…"

He rolled the body so that it lay on its side. Jenny tried not to look into the milky, opaque blue eyes and instead focused on the strange place where the creature's belly was. Normally, this early stage of decomposition ought to have bloated the abdomen. So it startled her when Ward reached out and pressed his hand into the creature's belly…and the flesh depressed inward, as if there were nothing behind the wall of tissue and skin but air, like a deflating balloon.

"That's….not normal," Lindon remarked with a bewildered, disgusted look on his face.

"What does this mean, Ward?" Jenny asked, aghast. She had _definitely_ never seen anything like this.

Ward shook his head. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped when there was a _swoosh _of air overhead, followed by a large shadow that suddenly descended over them. Jenny whirled, expecting some sort of attack and Taser instantly leapt in front of her, growling, sparks of electricity crackling through his fur.

A bulky, friendly-looking orange Dragon-type Pokemon was touching down on the sand not too far from them. It was a Dragonite. Jenny gaped. For on the Dragonite's back was someone she recognized from the many _Pokemon Battle Elite_ magazines that littered the Sheriff's Office's lobby as well as from numerous news reports of the Pokemon G-Men's various exploits throughout the world.

It was the Champion of the Kanto Region's Elite Four, Lance.

The awe faded pretty quickly for Jenny. She stepped forward to confront him, face stern, as the red-haired man strode across the sand straight for _her_ crime scene. "Excuse me! This is a crime scene! You're going to have to leave."

Lance didn't even break stride as he reached into his breast pocket and whipped out a badge indicating his status as a government agent, a G-Men. "I'm Lance of the Pokemon G-Men. I'll take it from here."

Despite the indignation that she felt at this presumptuous declaration, Jenny found herself staring at him. At first glance he was hardly impressive. He was young, probably no older than mid-twenties. His outfit was a ridiculously impractical full jumpsuit of red and black with a dramatic cape tethered around his neck. To top off the ensemble was a head full of fiery red hair that defied gravity itself in its bed of spikes.

Regardless, Jenny found herself standing up slightly straighter as he approached. There was an intensity and passion that burned in his amber gold eyes. Jenny could feel her skin break into goose bumps as the eyes fixed on her and the weight of his personality bore down on her will with a mere look. She was abruptly struck with the impression that this must be how one felt when under the scrutiny of royalty, and she could understand how this young man had attained the highly esteemed title of the Dragon Master.

"This is _our_ jurisdiction, Master Lance," Jenny crisply shot back, shaking herself from the moment. "It's hardly the G-Men's business to impede on the investigation of a beached Pokemon."

Lance did not reply immediately, instead tucking his badge back into his pocket before fixing her with a mildly amused, probing look. He was sizing her up, and Jenny—not one to be patronized by _anyone_—stared back unflinchingly. After a few heartbeats of silence, the Dragon Master seemed to come to some decision, as if Jenny had just passed some sort of test.

"On the contrary," He replied smoothly, looking from Jenny to the other officers, and then to the carcass. "This IS G-Men business. This Flygon," and he gestured with his hand to the immobile body, "is one of seven Pokemon that escaped from a lab that we have been investigating for months. We've been trying to locate the Pokemon…"

He frowned, "before it was too late."

"Too late? What do you mean? What was wrong with them?" Lindon asked suspiciously.

Lance didn't answer, though. Instead, his eyes drifted past them and onto the dead Flygon. His brows knit together and then he said coolly, "That's classified information. This is no longer your case. Your Sheriff has already been informed of the situation and has already agreed to cooperate with the G-Men should any more of these Pokemon show up in your town. He will let you know what you need to know."

Jenny was outraged, "Now hold on—"

He swept past her, waving a hand as if to dismiss a servant. Jenny was understandably incensed. She took a single step forward after him, about to forcibly remove him from the scene, not caring _who_ he thought he was. At that exact moment, however, her radio blared to life once more.

"Tango Four-Sixty from S.O. One."

The same surprise that Jenny felt flickered across Lindon's and Ward's faces. It was the Sheriff. He rarely came on the radio, and when he did it wasn't usually a good thing. Jenny eyed Lance thoughtfully, suspecting what this hail might be about.

"Tango Four-Sixty. Go ahead, Sir," She responded. The Sheriff confirmed her suspicion, warning her that Atlantica Bay was in full cooperation with the G-Men. Oh, and that an agent might be en route to the Signal Nineteen that Lindon had called in earlier. Jenny watched as Lance shooed her men away from the Flygon and wryly said, "Yes, Sir. We've met."

The Sheriff went on about something that Jenny only heard half of. Her eyes were on Lance as he examined the Flygon. He ignored them, grimly kneeling beside the Flygon. Dragonite tentatively hovered over him, keening sadly and anxiously. At Jenny's side, Taser was uncharacteristically silent, sitting on his hide legs, ears back and flat against his head.

_They're mourning._ She realized, her stomach twisting.

Lance spoke again, but he was not talking to her. He stood with his back to her, his cape spilling back down his shoulders. She saw him put a hand to his right ear, and it took her a moment to realize he was talking through an ear piece.

"Seraph, we've got another one. Send a team."

* * *

As the invisible waves of sound exploded from Aron's mouth, the startled Magneton and Chimchar were hurled backwards. The Golbat let out a high-pitched shriek, flapping its wings and frantically back-winging to avoid collision with the trees. The grunts were also taken off guard by Aron's attack, and scrambled backwards covering their ears as their Pokemon were pushed by the unseen force.

They were not the only ones affected. The ground shook beneath their feet. Trees violently rocked back and forth, their leaves and branches rustling and cascading down in. Several frightened Pidgeys and Hoppips took to the air to escape.

Steven was grateful that years of working with Aron had conditioned him to be used to the noise enough not to be affected. Nonetheless, he gritted his teeth when a spike of pain lanced through his aching head. Adrenaline and the determination to stay alive fueled him to keep standing, to fight their way out of this mess. He and Aron had been in worse scrapes before.

"Chimchar, shut that thing up!" hollered the Chimchar's grunt.

The Chimchar, a Fire-type known for tenacity and resourcefulness, struggled against the momentary stun effect that Aron's Roar had produced. This was usually where trainers became frustrated at the lack of success and switched the Pokemon out. Steven would not allow it.

"Aron, Tackle!"

Aron darted forward in a blur of silver. He plowed headfirst into Chimchar and sent it toppling to the ground. Chimchar scurried hurriedly back to its feet, the flames of its tail flaring to life as it growled its acceptance to Aron's challenge. Its grunt ordered it to attack, and Steven tensed expectantly. He didn't need to tell Aron, his battle-experienced Steel-type partner of half a decade, to be wary of making contact with its nemesis: fire.

Chimchar curled forward, the flames gathering strength and spreading to engulf its entire body until it was nothing more than a spinning wheel of fire. Flame Wheel.

The wheel spun faster and faster. It glowed hotter, fiercer, kicking up swirls of dust and grit that sizzled as the flames singed them mid-air. Then it came hurtling violently towards Aron, who threw himself to the left, tucked his head in, and rolled to safety.

The blazing Fire Wheel left a trail of black soot in its wake. It missed Aron by mere centimeters, but the Chimchar was more determined than that. It made a wide arc to double back around for a second shot. Again, Aron barely avoided the blow, this time with a high vertical leap.

Time seemed to slow down. It was as if Aron was suspended in the air, right in the heat of the battle. He looked down, locking eyes with Steven, who felt the same thrill and adrenaline run through his body as he felt the confidence that Aron had in him even to that day. It sounded cheesy, but their bond was their greatest enduring strength.

"Return!" Steven ordered.

"_Arrr-on!_" Aron's eyes glowed red, its entire metallic body taking on a white-hot glow.

Steven felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The air, already uncomfortable from the heat that Chimchar exuded, became supercharged. The glow of Aron's body suddenly exploded outward in a brilliant show of white light, light that formed heart-like shapes before they slammed into Chimchar in a merciless barrage.

"CHIM!!" Chimchar cried out in pain.

The power of the Return and the Flame Wheel caused an explosion that rocked the earth and trees again. Steven shielded his face with one arm, squinting against the light just enough to see the Chimchar being propelled through the air. It was still engulfed in its own flames and was unable to bring them under control before it collided into the stunned Magneton and Golbat, both of whom had been stupidly left by their trainers out on the field during the brief battle.

"Ah!! NO!" the Magneton's grunt bellowed while Magneton let out a horrible shriek. The other grunt just dove out of the way as the three Pokemon came crashing to the ground near them.

Aron landed calmly as if he'd not just been the cause of all that. He threw a look at Steven, and then looked back at the grunts and their Pokemon.

Steven's heart still raced in his chest, sounding like a jackhammer between his ears. He blinked hard several times to dispel the feeling of light-headedness that was creeping back on him. It worked but just barely.

Somehow, he'd come to stand back to back with the woman. As Gengar continued to battle the Magmar—as well as a feisty Shinx that had entered the battle at some undetermined point—she threw Steven an impressed but tense look. Obviously, she'd been paying more attention to his battle than he had been to hers.

"We can't do this for much longer. Not even you," she stated and produced another Poke Ball. A sleek, four-legged creature appeared. Its short fur was so black that even only a few feet away Steven almost lost sight of it in the shadows. Its eyes were blood red and there were mysterious, glowing golden bands on its ears and tail.

"Together, boys! _Dark Pulse_!" the woman commanded, and suddenly Steven was being dragged to the ground with her draped protectively over him. She murmured for him to brace himself. A heartbeat later, the strangest tingling feeling completely overcame Steven's body. All light just _vanished _for a few seconds.

Steven felt an indescribable coldness around him, as if the very warmth of his body and the earth below him were being sucked into the blanket of shadow. Then a sizzle of something, like electricity but somehow _not_, went through his body and made him jump, startled. Her hands on his shoulder and arm tightened.

"It's okay," she said. The strange current passed through them, over them, and Steven felt it rush outward, taking the tingling darkness with it. He heard several screams, followed by the frantic trampling of feet—both human and Pokemon. Before Steven could even look up, the arm that she'd slid around his waist drove him to his feet.

They were running again before Steven even consciously acknowledged it. He stumbled over the uneven roots of the rugged forest terrain, just trying to stay upright as she hustled them through thick, overgrown wild vegetation.

"Wait! Where's—" Steven began frantically but was interrupted.

"Aron!" Aron's voice came from their right. Steven's head snapped over to see his partner clinging on for dear life atop Gengar's head. Relieved, Steven let out a shaky breath and struggled to keep running. The Rockets would recover from the powerful double dose of Dark Pulse and would be coming after them in droves all too soon.


End file.
